


...And then there are curses

by justsare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Fuck it we’re using all the tropes, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Intercrural Sex, OOC?, Oral Sex, Outercourse, Slow Burn, Squishy Snape, Time-turner aging up, Vaginal Fingering, sad wanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 39,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsare/pseuds/justsare
Summary: When the war is won and Severus Snape finds out that the life he’s been living has been even more of a lie than he knew, how can he pick up the pieces when someone else steps in to take up the newly-hollowed place in his heart?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing this pairing - or really anything in this fandom - so go easy on me, please :)

Severus Snape, Potions Master, Death Eater, double agent, sacrifice, reluctant servant of two insane masters, soon-to-be-vindicated war hero, watched his dying reflection in the bright green eyes of his forever love’s son. There was a certain poetic justice in it, he thought, and a detached part of himself watched with a snort.

 

His heart was stuttering in his chest, his breathing slow but laboured. He felt the life rushing out of him; felt the moment Harry gave up, thinking he was dead; felt the cold and dark of loneliness settling around him like an old, familiar blanket. But he did not die. He lay quietly, unable to move. His body felt as if it was held in a stasis charm, and the detached part of his mind wondered. What had that crazy old man done? Was he, too, doomed to live as long as one survived? The initial pain had dissipated, leaving only a boneless lassitude. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

 

After a while (time was difficult at the best of times) there was a sudden, wrenching pain in his chest, as if his heart had been yanked out. Behind it came a long moment of hollow stillness, and then, striding purposefully into his field of vision, was Lily. She crouched beside him, looking exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her alive. She took his hand in hers. 

 

“Harry summoned us,” she said softly, “and we have to go now. But Dumbledore suggested I stop and see you. He asked that you not be too angry with him when you realize what he’s done.” There was a pause as she waited for him to answer, but he could not even raise the skeptical eyebrow he intended. “I know you’ll be angry, anyway, Sev,” she smiled. “Anger is your default setting. But maybe now...maybe now you can let go of it. Once you realize you’ve let go of me.” She patted his arm gently, and stood. He watched her, knowing he would never lay eyes on her again, but the panic he expected at such a realization did not materialize. Instead he felt...peaceful. Perhaps it was because death was coming.

 

“You’re not dying, Sev,” Lily said, turning to look over her shoulder. “Someone is coming, they’ll find you and heal you. Harry has just sacrificed himself to Voldemort. Soon he will return, and the darkness will be defeated. And then your purpose will begin. Not Dumbledore's anymore. Yours.”

 

Lily turned to leave, but stopped. “Thank you for protecting my son, Severus. I know it must have been terrible for you, especially with what Dumbledore did to you. But it means everything to me.”

 

And then she was gone, and more time passed. He lay quietly, trapped in his body, hearing and seeing nothing. He pondered Lily’s words. He wondered if her prediction of his rescue was only wishful thinking. With detachment he considered Harry’s chances against the Dark Lord, and realized that the deeply ingrained hatred for the boy was muted. He was able to consider Harry’s strengths and weaknesses without the white hot cloud of anger that usually surrounded any thoughts of him. Logically, he knew, the boy should not stand a chance.

 

However, Albus Dumbledore, despite his many mistakes, would not have fired Harry at Voldemort with anything less than perfect aim, and just as he came to this conclusion, the world exploded into white hot fire, and Severus Snape’s eyes closed again.


	2. Chapter Two

When Snape came to consciousness again, it was to the sound of an irritatingly familiar, but not unwelcome voice, which seemed to be... _ reading aloud _ ? He kept his eyes closed and listened to the rhythms of her voice, her obvious familiarity with the text indicating that this was not the first time she had read it. Why would a girl with near-perfect recall re-read a book? Why was she reading it out loud?

 

With his eyes still closed, Snape tuned out the melodic voice and began a diagnostic inventory on himself. He felt weak, but had no immediate pain. Slight wiggles of his fingers and toes assured him that all were accounted for. His breathing felt clear and unobstructed.

 

Snape was abruptly distracted when the girl beside the bed stopped reading, mid sentence, as a door opened.

 

“Hey,” she said softly.

 

“We’re going out to get some dinner,” another familiar voice said quietly. “D’you want to come? Or us to bring you something back?”

 

“Are you going to that awful Indian take-away again?”

 

There was soft laughter. “No. Just sandwiches.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” the girl replied, standing from the chair with a scrape. Snape heard the jingle of coins and a mostly-silent argument over who would pay for the food.

 

Sneakily hoping they were distracted enough not to notice, Snape opened his eyes, just a bit. As they adjusted to the muted light of the hospital room, they lighted on Hermione Granger’s jeans-clad bottom. Her wand stuck out carelessly from her back pocket. She was still trying to force her money on her friend, and Snape’s eyes moved up reluctantly to look at Harry Potter’s face, a form of punishment he’d been inflicting on himself for the last seven years. However, when he saw the green eyes (laughing at Hermione’s attempts to make him take her money) and the untidy black hair, the usual surge of anguished hatred didn’t come. In fact he felt...nothing. Quiet familiarity perhaps?

 

Startled by the distinct lack of emotion, Snape must have moved or made a sound, because both Harry’s and Hermione’s heads whipped round to look at him, their playful argument forgotten. Hermione’s eyes met his and she gasped. “Professor!” She rushed towards him, hands reaching out to touch him before seeming to remember that, now that he was awake, such liberties would not be welcomed. She dropped her hands an instant before they made contact with his face, and he was surprised to find himself disappointed.

 

“Miss Granger,” he began sternly, but his voice was only a hoarse whisper, and instead of being cowed, Hermione stepped closer, her hands reaching for him before dropping again.

 

She smiled tremulously. “Harry,” she said softly, “would you please let Healer Smith know that Professor Snape is awake?”

 

Harry nodded and left the room without a word. Snape watched him go, then returned his eyes to Hermione’s face. She had fading bruises on her neck; nearly-healed cuts and scrapes on her face and hands. How long has it been? he wondered.

 

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She had changed in the year and more since he’d last seen her, he realized. The old Hermione would have given voice to the questions written clearly on her face. This Hermione remained silent, her eyes roaming over his face. He wondered if she wasn’t performing a wandless, nonverbal diagnostic spell of her own - she was certainly capable of learning one.

 

She was so much like him - brilliant, logical, ruthless, with few friends. He wondered why he hated her so? Slowly he realized that his inherent prejudices against this girl also seemed to be gone. 

 

The arrival of the mediwitch drew both his and Hermione’s attention. She approached him with a cautious smile, wand already out and murmuring a steady stream of diagnostics. After a few moments she seemed satisfied. “How are you feeling, Professor Snape?” she asked gently.

 

“I expected to be dead,” he replied shortly. “Why am I not dead?”

 

The Healer exchanged a brief glance with Hermione, who spoke softly. “Sir...you were found still alive after...after You-Know-Who was...was killed.” She swallowed, then went on when he gave no sign of speaking. “You...you’d been bitten by the snake, and you’d lost a lot of bl-blood, but there was already anti-venom in your system. They replenished your blood and gave you some more of the potions that had ended up working on Mr Weasley, since they knew it was the...the same snake.” Hermione paused, then added, almost against her will, “She’s dead, too, Sir. The snake. Neville...Neville killed her.” Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow, and Hermione smiled. “I know.” Her smile faded as she continued, “You’ve been unconscious for a long time.”

 

“How long.”

 

Hermione sighed. “Three weeks, Sir.”

 

He mulled this over in silence, then asked quietly, “how many casualties?”

 

Hermione held his gaze, and despite Healer Smith’s attempt to stop her, Hermione spoke calmly. “Many. On both sides. The Malfoys survived,” she said quickly. “The Crabbes didn’t. All of the Hogwarts teachers survived, though there were a lot of injuries.”

 

“Who else?”

 

“The Lestranges are dead. Lupin and-and Tonks.” She sniffed, but continued bravely. “Fred Weasley. Colin Creevey. So...so many.”

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they shone with tears. Hermione’s own tears were flowing, and though he saw the flicker of realization on her face, she didn’t comment. She seemed to have run out of words for the moment, and he was glad. Both of them glared at Healer Smith when she cleared her throat loudly.

 

“It’s time for Mr Snape to rest,” she said abruptly, but went pale and backed up a step when Hermione whirled to face her.

 

“ _ Professor  _ Snape,” she hissed angrily. “Don’t you have other patients to see?”

 

The taller witch bristled. “You may be a war hero, Miss Granger, accustomed to people fawning all over you, but you do not run this hospital!”

 

“No,” said a deep voice from behind her, “but I do.” As all eyes went to him, a tall, dark haired man entered the room. “Ballard Thicknesse,” he introduced himself to Hermione and Snape, before turning to the mediwitch, who seemed frozen. “You may continue on your rounds, Clarissa,” he said, not unkindly. “I will speak with Professor Snape and Miss Granger.”

 

The Healer nodded and turned to leave, though not without casting a baleful glance at Hermione, which was ignored.

 

Ballard Thicknesse gestured to Hermione’s recently-vacated chair. “Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Granger,” he suggested. “I’m sure Professor Snape has many further questions.”

 

“I...I should go, Sir. I’m not sure that Professor Snape welcomes my company so much now that he’s awake.” Thicknesse raised an eyebrow at her and turned to Snape, who was too startled to reply. Hermione collected book and bag and turned to the door. At the doorway she stopped, taking a deep breath before turning back to the room. Her eyes met Snape’s again and he felt a faint jolt deep in his stomach. “I’m glad you’re awake, Professor,” she said softly, then turned and went out of the room.


	3. Chapter three

“Miss Hermione Granger

12 Grimmauld Place, London

By owl

 

Miss Granger,

 

I find myself wondering what book you were reading to me. I did not hear all of it, of course, but I did hear some and wonder what happens to young Garion after he and his friends are taken to King Fulrach’s castle?

 

I am told I will be held at St Mungo’s for some days yet.

 

(Professor) Severus Snape.”

 

Hermione stood in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, staring at the parchment held in her shaking hand. The writing certainly looked the same as Professor Snape’s. It had been a St Mungo’s owl who delivered the letter. But Hermione could not reconcile the polite, almost plaintive tone of the note, with the acerbic, often cruel, Potions Master. Was he really asking her to come back? To visit him and read to him? She bit her lip, staring at the letter without seeing it.

 

She, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville had been at the hospital every day, visiting the injured, helping where they could. Some, like Lavender, had succumbed quickly; others had taken days to die. And some, like Dean Thomas and Professor Snape, were recovering. While she had spent time at many bedsides, she was always drawn back to Snape. Sometimes she read to him; other times she just talked, about anything and everything that crossed her mind. Some days she just sat there silently. Others she cried.

 

Harry had showed Snape’s memories in the Pensieve to a small group of people, including Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout; Kingsley Shacklebolt; and of course Hermione and Ron. While she agreed that Professor Snape should not be prosecuted for the things he had done, she was more reluctant than Harry to forgive him for the way he’d behaved to Harry and Neville, in particular, and all of the students, generally.

 

But something kept pulling her back to his side. She felt better, sitting in the chair in his room, than she did anywhere else anymore.

 

Hearing the commotion of the boys in the hallway, Hermione stuffed the letter into her jeans pocket. Tomorrow she would go to St Mungo’s as usual. It wasn’t as though she had any other place to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The referenced book is Pawn of Prophecy, a personal nostalgic favourite of mine by David Eddings.


	4. Chapter Four

When Hermione arrived at Professor Snape’s room the following day, she knocked softly and stuck her head cautiously around the door. Snape seemed to be asleep; curled on his side facing away from the door. She approached quietly, and gently pulled the blankets up higher to tuck him in. She sat down in her usual chair and pulled the book from her beaded bag. It was dog-eared and worn, very unlike most of her books, but Hermione gazed fondly at it. She was sitting quietly, lost in thought, when the Professor’s voice rumbled softly from the bed.

 

“I must admit, Miss Granger, that I had rather higher expectations of your choice of reading material.” The words were delivered gently, almost as though he were...teasing her? Who _was_ this man?

 

Hermione swallowed her confusion and replied in kind. “It was the first chapter book I ever read,” she admitted. “It’s silly, and repetitive. But I love it. It reminds me of curling up in window seats with my dog, of lying in bed between my parents, of sitting on a towel at the seaside.” She smiled dreamily, but the smile faded slowly to sadness. She shook her head, as though dislodging the unhappy thoughts, and looked up from the book.

 

Snape felt a jolt deep in his belly as their eyes met. She was looking at him through her eyelashes, her hair swept away from her face, and she was unbearably lovely to him. In fact, he found her so beautiful that it almost made him sick with self-hatred - she was only eighteen, after all. He frowned, which turned into a scowl as her cheeks paled and she quickly dropped her gaze back to the book. “No,” he heard himself saying, “I’m sorry-“

 

The words took both of them by surprise, and she looked back up at him in shock. His own mouth was hanging open in surprise, and they stared at one another once more.

 

Attempting to gather himself together, Snape closed his mouth, then tried again. “I wasn’t frowning at you,” he admitted. “I’m feeling very...peculiar.”

 

It was Hermione’s turn to frown. “Do you need to see a Healer?”

 

He shrugged. “I’ve spoken to them. I’ve even -” his lip curled “- been _honest_ with them.” Hermione hid a smile. “But they can find no curses. They suggested I should talk to someone.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Most everyone is. They’ve brought in grief counselors.”

 

Snape sighed. “I don’t want to talk to them. I’ve spent a lifetime keeping secrets. Now I hear that all my secrets are public knowledge.” Hermione flushed. “I don’t blame you. Or Potter.”

 

“Do you have a fever, Sir?” Hermione clutched the book tightly in her hands. “I’ve never heard you say his name so... calmly.”

 

Snape nodded. “That’s part of what feels peculiar.”

 

Hermione’s head tilted slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t hate him. Harry, his father, Black….the burning hatred that has consumed me for twenty five years...it’s just…gone.”

 

“What about…” Hermione trailed off, unwilling to say the name.

 

“Lily?” Snape considered the question. “We were friends as children,” he said. “I liked her, but she chose someone else. Why did that become such a deep part of my identity?” They were both quiet. “Also,” he said softly, and his voice sounded so sad that Hermione looked up to meet his eyes again, “why have I been _such an asshole_?”

 

Hermione couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. To her everlasting surprise, Snape smiled back at her, and she felt a jolt deep in her abdomen. She had never noticed how handsome he was, she realized, then gave her head a hard shake. He was a Professor. He was old enough to be her father. And until almost dying, he had never been anything but awful to her. She forced her face into an impassive blank, an effort which was not lost on him.

 

They were both silent for a few moments. Hermione pulled her feet up onto her chair and sat with her arms wrapped loosely around her legs. Snape fussed needlessly with his blankets.

 

At last they both spoke at the same time.

 

“Will you keep reading?” Snape asked quietly.

“Shall I read?” Hermione asked softly.

 

They shared a glance before Hermione quickly opened the old paperback and began to read.


	5. Chapter Five

Snape was asleep when Hermione left - or, rather, Hermione waited until Snape had fallen asleep before slipping quietly out of the door. She sent her friends a quick message with her charmed coin and apparated straight back to Grimmauld Place, closing herself in her bedroom. She laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

 

Hermione had never before had trouble identifying her own emotions. In the twenty four days since the Battle of Hogwarts, she and her friends had been all over the place - adrenaline-fueled euphoria, heartbroken grief, anger, fear, happiness - sometimes three or more at once. But since Snape had awoken the day before, Hermione had a jumble of new emotions warring within her.

 

Relief, that their efforts to save him had not been for nothing; confusion, because she wasn’t entirely sure that the Severus Snape who woke up in St Mungo’s was the same Snape who had been bitten by Nagini. Guilt, that she was spending as much of her time with him as she possibly could, to the exclusion of her friends and her admittedly-already-floundering new relationship with Ron (did one kiss mean they were together now? Surely one kiss wasn’t a commitment to life, marriage, children?).

 

Hermione sighed, and admitted to herself the hardest part of all: more than anything, she felt a deep and alien sense of connection. To Severus Snape. Her professor. The man who had been in turns indifferent and cruel to her and to her friends. The man whose voice she heard every time she checked her teeth in the mirror. The man whose voice had haunted her failing-school-nightmares for years. The one teacher who had never praised her (in fact he’d done quite the opposite). The teacher who had never encouraged her love of potions, and in spite of whom she had excelled.

 

Hermione groaned and curled onto her side, remembering how Snape had been in the same position this morning; how she had gently tucked the blankets around him. She remembered the jolt in her belly and tried to remember what it had felt like. Was it desire? She tried to analyze the feeling unselfconsciously. She was eighteen years old, on paper, though she knew that because of the Time-Turner, she was closer to nineteen or even twenty. She had experienced desire before, and it had sometimes felt like it was coiled inside her, ready to spring. Was that all?

 

Deciding to test the theory, Hermione cast a series of quick spells - checking for other occupants of the house, muffling any sounds from her room, warding the door. Assured of privacy, she quickly unbuttoned her jeans, sliding one hand down beneath her knickers and threading the soft hair there between her fingers. Pursing her lips, Hermione grabbed her wand again and flicked it briefly; a quick depilatory spell later and she slid her fingers into her knickers again. Ahh, that was much better.

 

‘Right,’ she thought, ‘down to business,’ and conjured an image of Ron. She pictured how it felt to kiss him; remembered the shape of his erection straining against blankets and jeans and all the other times she’d witnessed it. She remembered the sounds he’d make in the morning while wanking, not knowing she could hear him. Recalled his hissed “Hermione…” as he came.

 

After fifteen minutes of touching herself with no apparent reaction whatsoever, Hermione at least had a word for  _ this _ emotion: frustration. With a grumble she retrieved her wand, set a quick vibrating charm, and used the handle end of the wand against her clitoris to bring herself to a quick, if unfulfilling, climax. What she was not prepared for, however, was to imagine Professor Snape’s fingers pressed deep inside her as his distinctive, growly voice murmured encouragement against her skin as she came. “Good girl.”

 

Hermione screamed as a second, and much more powerful orgasm rocketed through her body, leaving her trembling, fully dressed with her wand down her knickers, one hand loosely covering her face in mingled relief and shame.

 

_ Meanwhile, at St Mungo’s… _

 

Snape tossed and turned, his restless sleep taken over again and again by nightmare after nightmare. Finally, after a particularly nasty dream, he opened his eyes, finding Hermione’s chair empty. With a sigh he imagined her face, her cool hand on his hot forehead. He lay quietly, lost somewhere between dreaming and waking, hearing her breathing speed up, her hand growing warm on his skin. Her hand had moved, it was under the blankets now, her small fingers wrapping around the aching shaft of his cock and stroking slowly. He moaned, and her hand sped up, bringing him quickly to blinding release. “Good girl,” he growled softly, and sank down deeper into sleep.


	6. Chapter Six

Severus Snape awoke several hours later, confused by the sticky mess in his underclothes, not remembering the dream other than the sense that it had involved Hermione, and therefore had a tinge of shame surrounding it. He wandlessly vanished the mess, after first making sure he was alone in his room, then sat up gingerly in the bed.

 

Though this was only the second night of “normal” sleep, and therefore not long enough to establish a pattern, he felt that the nightmares were increasing in frequency. He seemed to be dreaming of events he hadn’t even witnessed, and so had no way of knowing whether they were true, or only imagined. Had Molly Weasley really duelled Bellatrix to the latter’s death? Had Lavender Brown really been attacked by Fenrir Greyback? Had Hermione and her friends really thought that Harry was dead, when Hagrid emerged from the Forbidden Forest with Harry’s lifeless body in his arms? He wondered whether the common element was Hermione. Could he be dreaming of her memories?

 

Snape sighed and leaned back into the pillows. His head ached. He wanted to go home, but wasn’t sure where that was anymore. His home at Spinner’s End had been destroyed. His rooms at Hogwarts may or may not be in livable condition - and he may or may not be welcome there. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face either the damage at Hogwarts, his former colleagues, or anything else.

 

He knew that the Healers were surprised that he didn’t have one foot out the door already; wasn’t insisting on his immediate release; was taking his prescribed potions obediently and was responding pleasantly to all of the staff who came into his room. Hermione seemed to be in complete shock at his transformation, but really, so was he. He didn’t recognize this mild-mannered man. Where was his surly disposition? Where was his acerbic wit? Where was his consuming hatred? Where was the decades-old longing for Lily? Where was the real Severus Snape?

 

He didn’t know, and it both worried him and elated him in equal parts. Maybe he could be someone new now. Maybe he could move past the place he’d been frozen for seventeen years. Maybe he could be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters today, so I’m posting both!


	7. Chapter Seven

_ Meanwhile, at Grimmauld Place _

 

Hermione was woken by gentle knocking at her door. She righted her clothes and removed the wards, allowing the knocker entrance. She stifled a groan on realizing it was Ron. Of course it was Ron.

 

However, Ron sat down on the edge of the bed instead of lying beside her. He seemed nervous, she realized.

 

“Hermione,” he asked hesitantly, “can we talk about something?”

 

She nodded, sitting up to face him, curling her arms around her raised knees. “What’s up?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about… us kissing and…” Ron met her eyes, then looked away. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “It’s just that...I thought I wanted that. For years, you know. Then there was the whole thing with Lavender, and I…”

 

Hermione smiled sadly and nodded reassuringly.

 

“And now I guess we’re finally together but I don’t know…” He paused, then spoke in a rush: “I see Harry and Ginny, and it’s like they’re meant to be together, you know, like I can’t imagine either of them with somebody else. They just belong. But we… I don’t know.”

 

“But we don’t?” Hermione asked softly.

 

“Will you be mad if I say no?”

 

“No. I’ve been thinking too, and I think you might be right. You’re my best friend. What if we try to be together, but end up hating each other?” Hermione sighed. “I love you, but I’m not  _ in love _ with you...I don’t think.”

 

Ron nodded glumly. “Can we still be best friends? Not like people always say they will, but then it’s awkward and they don’t hang out anymore….but actual friends like we always have been?”

 

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Hermione replied. “I won’t make it weird if you won’t.” She smirked, and Ron laughed.

 

“Okay, c’mon sleepyhead. Everyone came home with us for tea, so Neville went to buy pizza.”

 

“Sounds good,” she smiled. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

 

“Sure,” Ron said, getting up off the bed. “And, ‘Mione….I love you, too. As friends. You know.”

 

“I know.” Hermione watched as Ron left the room. That couldn’t have gone any better, she admitted to herself. She felt a huge wave of relief roll over her. Now she just needed to get rid of the weird connection to Professor Snape, and she could start finding out what life would be like now that the war was over.


	8. Chapter Eight

When Hermione arrived at Snape’s room the following morning, he wasn’t there. The bedclothes were rumpled, and the remains of his breakfast were on the tray, so she knew he couldn’t have gone far. As she debated whether she should sit down to wait for him, or go visit someone else first, she heard a thump and a crash from the adjoining bathroom. Without even thinking, she burst into the room, wand at the ready, coming face to face with a very naked Severus Snape, who was thankfully partially covered by the shower curtain whose rail had fallen down mid-shower. Hermione immediately squeezed her eyes shut and whirled around with a gasp, lowering her wand.

 

“Professor, I’m so sorry,” she gasped into the room, which was silent except for the water continuing to cascade down from the shower head. “Do you want me to get someone to help you, or can I do anything, or do you just...just want me to go away and never come back?”

 

There was a snort from behind her. “Just...shoot a  _ reparo _ over your shoulder, please, Miss Granger, and I should be able to take it from there,” he drawled.

 

Hermione’s hand was shaking as she raised her wand, aiming in the general direction of the shower. Without a word she went straight back out of the door and closed it behind her.

 

Snape watched with amusement as curtain and rod righted themselves, several small tears had their fabric knitted swiftly back together, and a cracked tile smoothed itself back to new. All that from a silent flick of her wand. She really was very talented, he admitted. And now she’d seen him mostly naked. He sighed and continued his shower. When he’d put on a clean gown and robe, cleaned his teeth and combed his hair, he opened the bathroom door expecting Hermione to be long gone.

 

Instead, she was sitting on the floor just to the left of the door, rocking back and forth. She was trembling, and Snape hesitated only briefly before lowering himself gingerly to the floor beside her, not touching her.

 

“Miss Granger?” he asked softly, but she didn’t react. “Miss Granger, I know seeing a teacher naked is-“ he broke off as he realized that tears were streaming down her face. Her eyes were far away and terrified, and her whole body was shaking violently. He felt suddenly sick and instinctively reached for her, pulling her unresisting into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing almost hysterically. He held her and rocked her gently, at a complete loss.

 

Eventually Hermione’s sobs turned to shudders and then to faint hiccoughs as she began to calm. He loosened his hold on her, suddenly conscious that he was sitting on the hospital floor and cradling  _ a student _ on his barely-clothed lap. However, when she felt his hold weaken, she clung to him even more tightly, and he held her close again, praying that no one would come in.

 

They sat in silence for several minutes, until Hermione’s breathing had returned to normal. “Are you all right?” Snape asked quietly, and she nodded. “Did I frighten you?” 

 

Hermione shrugged. “Not you,” she murmured hoarsely. “Just the sound, I guess. The adrenaline. Instinct kicked in and I just...ran.”

 

“Ran  _ towards _ the possible danger, might I point out.”

 

She nodded.

 

“Miss Granger, have  _ you _ spoken to one of these... _ grief counselors _ , I believe you called them?”

 

“Yeah,” she replied. “I don’t know if it helped, though. And there are so many who need it more than me.” Hermione slowly seemed to be realizing where she was, and to whom she was speaking, and was regarding the tear-stained front of his dressing gown with dawning horror. “Sir!” she gasped, and he tried to smile reassuringly. The expression felt alien to him, and must have looked it, because she started scrambling to get out of his lap, pressing quite a bit of herself against him as she did. Some dormant part of him seemed to come alive at the sensation and, to his horror, his cock sprang to life, pressing against her jeans-clad bottom through his dressing gown. They both froze.

 

“Right,” he sighed in resignation. “Miss Granger, I apologize for my...my…”

 

“Current state?” she supplied helpfully, and he nodded. “Don’t be silly,” she said gently, hastily adding “-Sir! Your body has been trying to relearn how to direct blood flow. That’s...that’s all,” she said weakly, but he nodded. He gently helped her rise from his lap, but remained seated, keeping his robe loosely draped over his lap.

 

Hermione helpfully turned away and went to stand looking out the window, giving him some privacy, which he used to get up and get back into his bed, arranging the blankets to cover his lap.

 

After a few moments spent watching Muggle London pass far below, half wondering whether it was a real or an enchanted window, Hermione turned around and met Snape’s eyes.

 

This time, they both felt the jolt.

 

_ Oh shit,  _ thought Snape.  _ What have I done? _

_ Oh shit,  _ thought Hermione.  _ What have I done? _


	9. Chapter Nine

Hermione and Snape were still staring at each other when the door flew open, and they both jumped. Hermione, out of view of the door, saw Snape’s always pale skin grow even paler. Wandlessly and wordlessly, she cast a quick disillusionment spell on herself and melted back towards the windowsill.

 

She sagged with relief when it was Professor McGonagall who entered the room, but she sensed that Snape felt no such relief. Torn between sneaking out before the formidable witch noticed her, and staying to protect Snape, Hermione hovered where she was.

 

“Severus,” Professor McGonagall said quietly, approaching the bed.

 

“Minerva,” Snape replied, his voice almost gentle. “Please, sit down,” he offered, gesturing to the chair where Hermione usually sat. She sat, gratefully and with her ever present feline grace. Her back was to Hermione now, and Snape relaxed a little, though he made the conscious effort not to look past her.

 

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here,” Professor McGonagall said quietly. “I know it’s been a few days since you woke up. I’ve been overseeing the start of repairs at the castle, and I’m still giving statements about the Battle everyday. I did pop round a few times, and I know Miss Granger was seeing to it that you had round-the-clock visitors.” Snape raised an eyebrow but let her continue. “Anyway, I’ve come to see how you’re feeling, and let you know that if you want to come back to Hogwarts, you will be welcomed with open arms. You of course are still Headmaster.”

 

Snape winced. “Minerva...may I speak openly?”

 

She looked surprised. “Of course.”

 

Snape smiled. “I make a  _ terrible _ Headmaster.” Ignoring her surprise, he continued, “Also, it’s ludicrous for  _ you _ to apologize to  _ me _ for  _ anything _ . The hell I put you, the other teachers, and the students through last year, was inexcusable.” She started to speak, but he held up his hand. “Please,” he said softly, “allow me to continue.” She nodded, and he took a deep breath. “I know you’ve seen the memories I gave to Mr Potter,” he began, and watched her face as she registered the complete lack of animosity in his voice. “We both believed I was dying, and I do not regret giving them to him.” He paused. “Well, I regret that he had to see his parents’ bodies,” he admitted. “But I’m not sorry that my secrets are out. I’m not sorry that Potter now knows how much Dumbledore was manipulating him. Using him.”

 

“And you,” McGonagall replied, and he nodded.

 

“And me. All of us. Weasley and Herm- Miss Granger, too. We were all just puppets.”

 

“You don’t seem very much like these Severus Snape that I know,” McGonagall said quietly. She was looking him over with sharp eyes, noting that his face was relaxed, his hair clean and soft, seemingly content to stay in dressing gowns and blankets. She caught him sneaking a glance over her shoulder, but he pretended to be looking at the window.

 

“The unmitigated ass? Bat of the dungeons? Tormentor of children?” He sighed. “I’m not sure I’m the Severus Snape that  _ I _ know, either,” he admitted. “I’ve been feeling very peculiar. I’ve spoken to the Healers about it. They can find no evidence of curses or tampering...now.”

 

“Do you think you were ‘tampered with’  _ before _ ?” McGonagall asked, surprised.

 

“I’m starting to suspect so,” he replied. Behind McGonagall’s chair, Hermione nodded vigorously. “I believe Miss Granger thinks so, as well.”

 

“Hmmm…” Professor McGonagall looked thoughtful. “Who do you think…”

 

“Dumbledore, of course,” Snape replied calmly. “I think I was cursed to play the role that he cast me in, until the Dark...hmmm….until  _ Voldemort _ was defeated.” McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “It fits his pattern, Minerva. And looking back on my life...at, say, my fourteen-year-old self...I had friends. Lily was my friend. Potter, Black, they teased me, but it was pretty harmless. And then suddenly out of nowhere I was madly in love with Lily, consumed with hatred for Potter, interested in all kinds of dark magic. I know that it could be attributed to puberty, adolescence, and it  _ was _ . By Dumbledore. Carefully crafting the narrative as he set me up. Cursed me to half a lifetime of misery and anguish.”

 

“How do you feel now?” Minerva asked quietly.

 

“Free,” he replied softly. “Free, and yet…” unconsciously his gaze slid over Minerva’s shoulder, making eye contact with Hermione, and there was a pause. “....tethered,” he murmured at last.

 

McGonagall nodded. “To Miss Granger,” she said calmly. “Well, that isn’t entirely... _ unexpected _ , given what she did to try and heal you. Still, the effects won’t last forever. After a year or so all of your blood will be back to normal.” Her head tilted slightly to the side as she read the expression on his face. “She didn’t tell you, did she.” McGonagall quickly spun her chair around and fixed her eyes on Hermione, and Snape raised his eyes to her once more.

 

Hermione swallowed hard.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Hermione. What have you done?

_ The Battle of Hogwarts _

 

When Hermione, Ron, and Harry had emerged from the tunnel at the start of the hour-long armistice, they had headed into the Great Hall, joining Ron’s family. Their emotions were raw, their bodies exhausted. It was several long minutes before Hermione realized that Harry wasn’t with them, and wondered where he’d gone, but Ron’s hold on her was tight and desperate, and she couldn’t leave him to cry over his brother’s body without her. And so she stayed. But after a while Mrs Weasley had gripped onto Ron and was holding him tightly, and Hermione took the chance to escape. She slipped out of the Great Hall, and wondered if she should go up to The Headmaster’s office to see if Harry was still there, watching Professor Snape’s memories in the Pensieve.

 

But thinking of Professor Snape reminded her that they had left his body in the Shrieking Shack, and while all the other bodies were being brought inside, his would stay apart. She sighed. Did he deserve that?

 

Looking around the entrance hall, Hermione fought the waves of despair threatening to overtake her. She vowed that once they’d won the war, she would help to rebuild the school. She would come back, take her N.E.W.T.S., maybe do an Apprenticeship in Potions or Arithmancy. She had been considering going to a Muggle university, Oxford or Cambridge, but now she wasn’t sure. Maybe her place was here, helping to restore and rebuild. Hermione looked up the grand staircase again, but went back into the Great Hall to join the Weasleys.

 

Hours later, when the Battle was over and Harry had defeated Voldemort, Hermione had taken Ernie MacMillan and Charlie Weasley and gone back to the Shrieking Shack to retrieve Professor Snape’s body. Harry had outlined what he’d seen in the Pensieve, and Hermione was even more resigned to bringing the Potions Master’s body back to Hogwarts where it belonged.

 

But when they arrived at the Shack, Hermione had realized that Snape wasn’t dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this one is super short. I could probably be persuaded to post the next chapter today, too.....


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some answers are finally forthcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this one is a little short, too. Thanks so much for all the love on the previous chapter. I know it’s hard to know what to comment sometimes, so it’s nice to know people are reading and enjoying. Have a wonderful day!

Hermione swallowed. Both Snape and McGonagall were staring at her.

 

“I….I was waiting for the right moment…”

 

“I think that had better be now, dear,” Professor McGonagall said, not unkindly.

 

With difficulty, Hermione met Professor Snape’s eyes. He looked confused and worried, two expressions she had never seen on his face before.

 

“We knew we had to kill the snake. We knew it all along. So when we thought the time was coming, I dosed us - Harry, Ron, and me - with antivenom. A lot of it. And when I found you, and you were still alive, I…” Hermione’s voice failed her.

 

“You performed a  _ blood transfusion _ ?!” Snape was incredulous. “In the  _ Shrieking Shack _ ?!” 

 

“That’s what I said,” McGonagall muttered.

 

Hermione stood up straighter. “I...I did, yes, Sir.”

 

“She also,” said McGonagall, a hint of steel in her voice, “put full body-bind curses on Mr MacMillan and Mr Charlie Weasley when they tried to stop her. Which only released them when she  _ lost consciousness _ because she didn’t stop at a safe amount of blood.” Hermione and McGonagall exchanged glares before Hermione’s face resumed its expression of apprehensive defiance.

 

“So when you told me the other night that I already had antivenom before arriving at St Mungo’s, the mysterious saviour was, in fact, yourself.” Snape’s voice was strained.

 

“I….yes, Sir.” Hermione swallowed, dropping her gaze to the floor, waiting for the berating tirade he was sure to unleash.

 

“So now we have a blood bond?”

 

“I think so, Sir.” Hermione winced apologetically.

 

Snape was silent for what seemed an eternity. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “How can I ever thank you?”

 

Both Hermione and McGonagall looked up at Snape.

 

“Herm- Miss Granger, I owe you my life. And not my old life, either - this new life, full of...hope.”

 

Hermione exchanged glances with Professor McGonagall. The older witch was smiling faintly, as though something had amused her that she didn’t wish to share.

 

Presently McGonagall rose from her chair. She hugged Hermione and then went to the side of the bed. Without asking, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Snape’s forehead, then swept towards the door. “Severus, I’ll send you the paperwork. Deputy Headmaster; you may decide whether you wish to teach Potions or Defense. Horace has agreed to keeping Potions, or Bill Weasley would take Defense. Term begins at the usual time, so any help with the rebuilding would be appreciated.” And off she went without another word.


	12. Chapter Twelve

When the door had closed behind Professor McGonagall, Hermione drifted closer to the bed, as though a magnet was drawing her in. “Do you think she knew I was here the whole time? Sir?”

 

“Tell you what, Miss Granger. Let’s leave off the ‘Sir’ until we get back to school.”

 

“Then you might as well stop correcting yourself when you start to say ‘Hermione’, Professor,” she replied shyly.

 

“A blood bond explains a lot,” Snape said quietly, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “That dream last evening…” he trailed off as a blush rose high on his cheeks.

 

Hermione remembered what  _ she _ had been doing the previous evening, and blushed as well. Surely that’s not the kind of dream he’d had? Just the memory sent a rush of desire through her and she felt her knickers grow slightly damp. She squirmed uncomfortably and risked a look at Snape’s face just as his nostrils flared. She stepped away, towards the window, trying to distract herself, but found herself drawn back towards the man in the bed.

 

“What’s happening to me,” she breathed faintly, and then their eyes met. His always-dark eyes were completely black, and he was staring at her in a way he never had before.

 

Without warning he was inside her head as she recalled  _ thrashing around on the bed in ecstasy, imagining his fingers inside her, his voice in her ear _ . She panicked as he was trying to wrench himself out of her mind, could hear his voice as though through a tunnel.

 

“No! Damnit - Hermione! I’m sorry - I can’t - arghhh!”

 

Their mingled panic had her thoughts scattering, flickering from one image to another like a television rapidly changing channels. Desperately she tried to focus on one, any one.

 

“Something that makes you feel safe!” Snape urged, his voice truly inside her head now, and she moaned faintly. Both of them were surprised when the image of safety she chose was from that very morning when he’d cradled her against his chest.

 

The wild careering around her mind slowed to a stop. In her memory they clung to each other, and though part of Snape wanted to stay there, to just hold each other, he murmured gently to her instead. “ _ Protego _ , Hermione, cast it. It’s all right, you won’t hurt me.”

 

Hermione nodded and reached for her wand, casting the charm as directed, and soon she was alone inside her head again, on her hands and knees on the floor, dry heaving.

 

Snape, though shaking himself, was out of the bed and beside her on the floor in an instant. He wanted to gather her into his arms again but didn’t feel he had the right - was afraid to touch her at all. “Hermione, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I would never do that to you…” his voice dropped to a whisper. “It was a violation. I’m so, so very sorry.”

 

Hermione, still bent over, held up a trembling hand, and he forced his mouth closed against continued apologies. He didn’t know what had happened - he had never before used Legilimency without a wand and the intent to do so - but he almost didn’t care about the  _ why _ or the  _ how _ , because he was much more worried about Hermione. She was still occasionally retching, and he was constantly fighting the impulse to pull her into his arms. What was happening to him? Was it just the blood bond?

 

“I didn’t know,” Hermione whispered shakily. “A blood bond. I didn’t know there was such a thing, I never...read about it.”

 

Snape nodded without speaking.

 

“I would have done it anyway,” she admitted, and looked up to meet his eyes. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then looked away.

 

“Are you all right, Hermione?” Snape asked gently, and she nodded. They were sitting close together on the floor, not quite touching. “I really am sorry,” he said quietly.

 

“I know,” Hermione replied. “I’m embarrassed that you saw...what you saw. Obviously. But I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

 

“Yeah, I’m….trying not to think about that, honestly,” Snape muttered, and Hermione risked a glance at his face.

 

“Is that part of the blood bond, Sir? A sexual…attraction?” she squirmed.

 

Snape looked pained, and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it…..well, I don’t know if you’ll feel better to know it’s mutual, or not?”

 

Hermione was blushing scarlet. “It is?” He nodded, his usually pale skin tinged pink. “That  _ does _ make me feel better,” she admitted. Then her face went pale. “We’re 

going to feel this way for  _ a year _ ? But….I’m coming back to Hogwarts this year. I can’t sit in your class with wet knickers and…” Hermione snapped her mouth closed and hid her face in her hands.

 

Snape was shocked, but tried to hide it with a chuckle. “I guess I have the advantage, with my billowing robes…” Hermione dropped her hands and stared at him. “I told you, Hermione. It’s a mutual bond. I doubt this morning’s...situation...will be an isolated one.” She glanced almost involuntarily from his face to his lap and back up, cheeks flushing again.

 

Feeling vulnerable and strange, Hermione tilted her head slightly. “You  _ are _ coming back to teach, right?”

 

Snape nodded. “I think so. I’m not really qualified for anything else. And I suspect you and I would have a rougher year apart, than together, even trying to conceal a bond between us. Bonds draw their halves together. The Healers told me that you barely left my side the whole time I was unconscious. That was more than your good heart; it was the bond holding us together.” He paused. “Hermione, that’s why wizards developed blood-replenishing potions. The blood and magic that get exchanged bind us together like nothing else. It’s only different from a soul bond because it’s temporary.”

 

“But they’re not mutually exclusive, I suspect,” Hermione said shrewdly, and Snape’s mouth tightened in confirmation.

 

“In some cases, a blood bond could lead to a soul bond, depending on the relationship and how it is….nurtured.” His eyes swept her face, but he made a conscious effort not to look at her body. “I’m your teacher. This school year is going to be very difficult, on so many levels.”

 

Hermione nodded solemnly. “The rebuilding. All the missing people. And you...oh, Sir. It’s going to be so different for you.” A thought seemed to occur to her. “You...you’re going to stay like this, though, right? I mean...nice? And funny. And...sweet?”

 

Snape snorted. “Sweet? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Hermione smiled and leaned into him. He wrapped one arm around her, and they both sighed.

 

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I only feel complete when I’m with you.” She sighed. “A year?”

 

He nodded. “Approximately.”

 

“I’m going to have to tell my friends,” she said reluctantly.

 

“I know. And I’ll have to tell the other Professors.”

 

“What class are you going to teach?” she asked curiously.

 

“Potions,” he smiled as she looked up at him in surprise. “I know, Minerva will be shocked too. But I love Potions.”

 

“Me, too,” Hermione replied without thinking.

 

“You do?”

 

“Of course. And, despite what you think, I’m pretty damn good at it, too. I was considering an apprenticeship, actually.”

 

“Hermione.” There was a hint of the old steel in his growly voice. “Don’t for a second think I don’t know exactly how talented you are, at Potions and every other subject.”

 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, and she pressed closer to him before consciously pulling away, getting up from the floor. She offered him a hand up and he took it, not letting go when he was on his feet again.

 

“Hermione,” he said softly, “I meant what I said. You’re brilliant.” He felt the tremor move through her, and finally recognized what was happening. “Oh, shit,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.”

 

Hermione snorted, dropping his hand and turning away. “I spent six years working my ass off for your approval. Now you’re giving it to me and I can’t even...I’m not sure I can handle this.” She pressed her thighs together, aroused and embarrassed and exhausted after their emotional morning.

 

Snape was remembering the scene he’d accidentally witnessed, of Hermione climaxing to the sound of his praise. He imagined acting out her fantasy right now, and groaned loudly enough that Hermione turned to him in concern. “I wish I hadn’t seen what I saw,” he admitted. “This is going to be torture.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, not even attempting to conceal the tenting of his dressing gown.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Hermione was reading aloud and Snape was dozing, when Ballard Thicknesse knocked at the door and entered the room. “Professor, Miss Granger,” he greeted them. “How are you feeling, Severus?”

 

“Good,” Snape admitted. “I’m feeling stronger by the hour.”

 

“It’s time to start thinking about leaving St Mungo’s,” the administrator said gently, and Snape nodded. “Have you made arrangements?”

 

“Arrangements have been made,” Hermione said clearly, and both men looked at her. She smiled calmly, and Thicknesse nodded.

 

“Good, good. I’ll arrange for your discharge tomorrow, then, Severus. We’ll send you home with all your potions and set up an appointment schedule. You should rest for another week or two and then start getting back to normal.”

 

Snape nodded and shook the man’s hand, watched as he shook Hermione’s as well, and waited until the door closed behind him.

 

“What arrangements?” he said quietly.

 

“My parents’ house in Hampstead. It’s empty.” She looked at him uncertainly. “But...if you don’t want to, there are extra bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. We’re all staying there - Harry, Ginny, Ron, and I. Neville comes sometimes. I’m sure you’d be welcome there, too.”

 

“Where are your parents?” Snape asked, distracted by this information.

 

“....Australia. It’s kind of a long story,” Hermione admitted, and she looked so sad that Snape let it drop.

 

“I’m uncomfortable at the thought of sharing a house with a bunch of teenagers,” he admitted, “but even more uncomfortable at the thought of sharing one with only one.” He looked at her pointedly, and Hermione blushed.

 

“Well, what if we had a chaperone?”

 

Snape nodded slowly. “Who did you have in mind?”

 

“Madam Pomfrey is also due to be released tomorrow. I could offer my parents’ house to her as well.”

 

“I think that would be acceptable,” Snape replied. “I’m not ready to go back to Hogwarts just yet.” He gazed out the window for a moment, then met her eyes. They were both becoming accustomed to the jolt when they made eye contact, and it had started to feel good rather than uncomfortable.

 

“Do you want to be there when I tell my friends?” Hermione asked softly.

 

“Do  _ you _ want me there?” Snape countered gently.

 

“Yes. And no.” Hermione shrugged. “It would be easier for me if you were there. But it would be easier for them if you weren’t.”

 

“I only care for your feelings,” Snape admitted softly, then snorted. “God. Do you hear me, the words coming out of my mouth? Who am I?” The question was light, amused, but the mirth faded from his face. “Who am I,” he repeated softly.

 

“You’re Severus Snape,” Hermione said with a smile, unconsciously leaning towards him, and looking up at him in surprise when he moaned softly. “What is it, what’s wrong.”

 

“No, not wrong, Hermione. Say my name again.”

 

She smiled again. “Severus.”

 

He blew a stream of air through his pursed lips. “All right,” he murmured softly, “I’m not sure you should call me that.” Hermione’s brow creased, and he smiled gently. “I’m your teacher. You’re my student. There are lines we mustn’t cross - attraction, blood bond, or no.”

 

“Ohhh...” She leaned in to him, her lips almost brushing his ear. “Severus,” she breathed, and his hands gripped her arms.

 

His voice was a low growl, his lips almost touching her cheek. “Hermione, stop that.” He paused, calculating. “Come on now…be a good girl.”

 

Hermione gasped, shuddering against him. “All right,” she moaned. “All right.”

 

His hands were still gripping her arms as he held her away from him, fighting with the almost overwhelming urge to pull her tightly against him. “This is going to be a long year, Miss Granger.”

 

She nodded, her hair brushing his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too short to be satisfying? Shall we take a vote?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_ Teatime at Grimmauld Place _ .

 

“You’re going to what.” Harry’s voice was flat and deceptively emotionless.

 

“I’m going to take Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey to my parents’ house to recover, until they’re strong enough to go back to Hogwarts,” Hermione repeated calmly.

 

“So….you and  _ Snape _ ,” Ron sneered out of habit, “have a blood bond.” Hermione nodded. “So now, what, you have to be together? Are you going to, like,  _ marry _ him?”

 

Hermione snorted. “No.” Ron looked relieved. “For now it just means that we both feel better when we’re together.” 

 

Ron nodded. “And you don’t want to be together….here?”

 

“He’s a grown-ass man...it’s hard to blame him for not wanting to live with a bunch of teenagers, for the few months of the year he doesn’t have to,” Ginny pointed out.

 

Ron’s head tilted slightly as he considered this. “Fair do’s, I guess,” he admitted. He looked seriously at Hermione. “I know he’s not a murderer. But he’s still done some awful things. He’s been awful to Harry, Neville, you...well, everyone really.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I know that you all need to see for yourselves how much he’s changed. And it’ll be up to each of you to decide if you can forgive him. But this isn’t going to be forever. In September we’ll all go back to Hogwarts and…” Hermione trailed off as Ron and Harry exchanged glances. “What?”

 

“We...we don’t think we’re going, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “The Ministry is willing to take me without my N.E.W.T.S. They have an equivalency exam or something they want me to do instead. And Ron….”

 

“I’m going to help George with the business,” Ron admitted.

 

Hermione looked from one to the other, stunned.

 

“I’m coming back,” Ginny said brightly.

 

“And me,” Neville said quietly. He’d been quiet through the whole conversation, as though he felt he perhaps oughtn’t to be there. “Luna, Hannah, Ernie, Justin. Lots of us. You won’t be alone.” He smiled reassuringly.

 

Hermione nodded, and swallowed hard. “I’ll miss you,” she said thickly, and Harry smiled, holding her hand.

 

“You’ll be too busy to miss us, ‘Mione,” Ron laughed. “Between the twenty N.E.W.T.S. you’ll be preparing for, and babysitting Snape...when will you have time?”

 

Hermione swatted him with her free hand, then gripped his hand in hers. “I know. I’ve never been at Hogwarts without you two, though,” she sighed. A thought occurred to her, and she looked closely at him. “Is this why you wanted us to break up?” she asked curiously. “Because you’re not coming back to school?”

 

Ron shrugged. “No, but I guess it’s part of it. It wouldn’t have made things any easier.” His eyes widened. “Is this why  _ you  _ wanted us to break up? Because of the blood bond with Snape?”

 

Hermione shook her head. “It was part of it, sure. It wouldn’t have been very fair to you. But not the main reason.” Ron nodded and squeezed her hand. “Does anyone else have any questions, for right now, about Professor Snape, or the blood bond, or the plan going forward? I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve had the second-longest day of my life.”

 

“You do look exhausted, Hermione,” Ginny admitted. “Why don’t you go on up to bed. We can all think about our questions and ask them later.” The others nodded and Hermione smiled gratefully. She kissed each on the cheek in turn and then plodded slowly up the stairs to her room, collapsing fully dressed onto the bed, and fell promptly asleep.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, Hermione burst into Snape’s room and stood beside the bed, their eyes drinking each other in. “I hope we sleep better together,” Hermione said in greeting, then quickly caught herself. “Under the same roof, I mean,” she blushed.

 

“Of course,” he teased, and smiled. “I’m looking forward to getting out of here,” he admitted. “Until yesterday I thought I’d be quite content here for a while, but now I find myself yearning to...stretch.”

 

“How do you want to travel, Sir?”

 

He considered the question. “What are the options?”

 

“Floo, or apparition. Side-along, as you haven’t got a wand. We can take a muggle taxi, I guess, but it would take ages.”

 

“I would prefer to apparate if you are comfortable taking me,” he said quietly.

 

“Of course. Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Luna will be going by Floo - someone connected our house for the summer - later this afternoon.”

 

“Yes, I spoke to Minerva this morning as well,” Snape admitted. “I’ve already owled back my signed contracts for the school year.”

 

“Sticking with Potions?” Hermione smiled.

 

“Yes. And I have a proposal for you. Not the scary kind,” he added.

 

“I’m interested,” Hermione replied, stepping closer, so that her thighs were against the edge of the mattress.

 

“I want to tutor you individually in Potions, so that you can take your N.E.W.T.S. early. Perhaps as early as November. And then...I’d like to offer you an apprenticeship.”

 

Hermione’s face lit up. “Really? But you don’t…”

 

“Take apprentices. No. I never have. I may be no good at mentoring you. We will have to be careful with the contract. I want it to be very clear that no advantage be taken of our blood bond. But you mentioned that you’d been considering it, so...I’m offering.”

 

“Yes! Yes!!!” Hermione was so excited that she threw her arms around him. He hugged her in return, holding her close, as they both became aware of each other. The gleeful hug caused her upper body to press against his, her scent filling his nostrils. He didn’t want to let go; waited for the slightest sign that she was ready to be released, but there was none. Instead she pressed closer, resting her head on his shoulder, only just refraining from burying her face in his neck. “Sir?” she asked quietly. “Is this all right? Is it allowed?”

 

He sighed but did not let go. “I think we have to make our own rules,” he admitted, “though I suspect Minerva would have other ideas. I admit that I...oh, Hermione. I want to hold you all of the time.” She rewarded him with the touch of her lips to his neck, and he shuddered. “No, don’t do that. Just because I want to, doesn’t mean we should. And that starts with hugging, and goes double for anything ….else… our bodies are wanting to do.” Reluctantly he let go of her and extricated himself from her hug.

 

“I know,” she agreed. She stepped away from the bed and clasped her hands in front of her, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, I brought you some clothes,” she remembered.

 

“Oh?”

 

“I got them from Bill,” she said, “we can make them fit.” She pulled the neatly folded clothes from her beaded bag and laid them on his lap. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s not as though anyone will see you in your dressing gown when we apparate. But I thought you might like a change.”

 

“I appreciate it,” he replied quietly. “I’m very much looking forward to a change.”

 

Hermione grinned impishly at him. “Better get ready then, Sir.”


	16. Chapter sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than just hugging? Well...maybe.

“You can use this room,” Hermione said tightly, opening the door. “The sheets are fresh. Washroom through there. Madam Pomfrey will be in here,” she pointed. “I’m….I’m going to keep my old room, so it’s just there.”

 

“Hermione?” Reluctantly she looked up at him. “When was the last time you were here?”

 

“This morning, to rekey the wards. But I didn’t...I haven’t been in any of these rooms since the day I sent my parents to Australia. Kreacher was kind enough to come and do the beds for us this morning with Luna.”

 

“D’you...want me to come to your room with you? So you’re not alone the first time?”

 

Hermione sighed in relief. “Yes, Sir. Please.”

 

Snape smiled and took her hand. “I told you that you didn’t have to call me ‘Sir’ this summer.”

 

Hermione shrugged. “I have to call you  _ something _ .” She paused, her hand on the doorknob, then sighed and swung the door open, and they stepped in together. 

 

Snape looked around, soaking in all the details. There were dozens of photographs, both wizard and muggle - some of Hermione with Harry and Ron, some with her parents. There were, not surprisingly, hundreds of books. On every available shelf and surface. A somewhat bedraggled bear sat on the tautly-made bed, and Snape groaned softly. Not softly enough, though, as Hermione looked up at him, questioningly.

 

“Nothing,” he said. “Just...I’ll be in the room across the hall from you, trying not to think about you in inappropriate ways, and you’re going to be in here surrounded by...photos of yourself at age two, and your beloved childhood teddy bear. It’s just...perverse.”

 

Hermione grinned and leaned into him. “Inappropriate ways, hmmm? I’d like to hear more about that.”

 

Snape cleared his throat but was saved from replying by the commotion in the sitting room below, as Luna and Madam Pomfrey Flooed in, with Minerva McGonagall not far behind.

 

Hermione and Snape headed down to greet the new arrivals.

 

“...to go up to your room, Poppy, or get comfortable down here?” McGonagall was asking.

 

“I think here by the window would be lovely, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said softly, and Luna and Hermione helped her into the soft chair. “Oh, this  _ is _ nice,” she smiled. Luna tucked a blanket around the Healer’s legs.

 

“Would anyone like some tea?” Luna asked brightly, and both Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall agreed.

 

“Do you want me to show you where everything is?” Hermione asked, but Luna shook her head, wandering dreamily down the hall to the kitchen.

 

“Is she staying with us as well,” Pomfrey asked, and Hermione and Snape exchanged an amused glance.

 

“No, Poppy,” McGonagall replied. “Miss Granger-“

 

“Hermione, please.”

 

“-Hermione is quite capable of managing everything here.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Luna will just stop by when we need her,” she smiled.

 

“Good,” breathed Madam Pomfrey. “She’s such a sweet girl, but so exhausting.”

 

Snape, recalling his four years of attempting to teach Potions to Luna, laughed. Both McGonagall and Pomfrey stared at him in surprise.

 

“Why, Severus. I think that’s the first time in twenty years I’ve heard you laugh,” Madam Pomfrey said. “It looks wonderful on you.”

 

“I agree,” McGonagall said, her sharp eyes examining both Snape and Hermione. “A second chance at life is really doing wonders for you, Severus.”

 

Luna appeared with the tea things, and Hermione was relieved that the tea appeared to be perfectly normal, and not one of Luna’s “special” teas of roots or tree bark. McGonagall finished hers, and then rose to leave. “I’m going to head back to Hogwarts and see what progress has been made today,” she said. “Feel free to Floo-call me anytime. If it’s an emergency, summon my House-Elf, Luki, and she will find me.”

 

“Thanks, Minerva,” Poppy said softly, and she and McGonagall hugged before the latter stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

 

“I guess I’d better go too,” Luna said, “my dad will be looking for help with the garden. Do you need anything before I go? It’s Ginny’s night to sort your tea,” she added dreamily.

 

“I don’t think so, Luna. You’ve been brilliant, really. Thank you.”

 

Luna smiled. “Having friends to do favours for is wonderful.” She looked over to where Snape was sitting on the sofa. “It  _ is  _ wonderful to hear you laugh, Professor Snape,” she said kindly, before heading out the front door to apparate home.

 

Hermione surveyed her charges. Madam Pomfrey, older than Snape by some forty years, was noticeably flagging. “Shall I bring you upstairs, Madam Pomfrey, for a nice rest before tea?”

 

“Please, dear, just call me Poppy. And yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

 

Hermione escorted the elder witch up the stairs and into the guest room, which was sunny and bright in the mid afternoon light. Poppy got gratefully into the bed Luna had made, and Hermione helped her get comfortable. She was asleep before Hermione had even left the room.

 

Midway down the stairs, Hermione paused, her eyes on Snape through the sitting-room door. He was sitting staring unseeing out of the window, one hand absently stroking up and down the arm of the sofa. Hermione imagined him stroking her that way, his touch on her bare skin, and realized that more than anything she wanted to run down the stairs and throw herself at him, pressing him into the sofa, grinding against him until he gave in and took her. She sighed and he looked up at her, their eyes meeting and locking, and she descended the stairs and approached him slowly.

 

“No, baby,” he breathed as she came closer and he saw the flush on her chest and neck, the blown pupils of her eyes, the rapid rising and falling of her chest. His arms reached for her and then closed around himself instead, as though he couldn’t control the urge to wrap them around her.

 

“Just tell me that you do, too,” she begged, stopping a few feet away from him and gripping a wingback chair with both trembling hands.

 

“Oh, god. More than anything,” he promised, holding tightly to his own elbows.

 

“What if we-“ Hermione stopped, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. “This was a bad idea,” she whispered to the ceiling, and though she couldn’t see him, she knew he agreed. “I have to go to my room,” she murmured urgently. “Do you need anything?”

 

“Just you,” he admitted brokenly, and Hermione whimpered. “Hermione. Come here.” She approached him slowly. “Hold out your hand.” Hermione did as she was told, and bit back a cry as his closed lips landed on the tip of her index finger. She felt a jolt deep inside her and her finger began to tingle strangely. “Now go,” he said. “But take some of my magic with you.”

 

Hermione turned at once and raced up the stairs, locking her bedroom door and leaning against it, too desperate to do anything other than shove her hand down into her knickers, feeling his magic course through her finger as she frantically rubbed her clit, immediately sending waves of pleasure racing through her body. She imagined him directing her, imagined his voice in her ear telling her to push her fingers inside of herself, and she did so, shuddering as she came around them, and then collapsed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape’s little laugh inspired by this: https://goo.gl/images/gsQdLB


	17. Chapter Seventeen

When she had recovered enough to stand, Hermione washed her hands and went back down to the sitting room, where Severus Snape was sitting nearly motionless on the sofa.

 

He looked up as she approached. “Will you hold me?” she asked shyly, and he nodded, opening his arms to her. She snuggled down into his lap, her cheek against his chest. Being held in his arms was the nearest thing to perfect peace she could ever remember feeling. If this was all the physical comfort they could offer each other, she would take it, even though their bodies longed for more.

 

“I should have closed off the Floo,” she said regretfully, “given you a little privacy so you could…”

 

He smiled at her. “I’m old now, Hermione. I’m pretty good at ignoring those...urges.”

 

“Pfft. You’re, what, thirty eight. That’s not old.”

 

“It’s twenty years older than you, Hermione.”

 

“Well...not exactly.” At his raised eyebrow, she began to explain about the Time-Turner, and they were still discussing it half an hour later when the fireplace came to life and Ginny stepped out.

 

Her penetrating gaze took in the couple on the sofa, not missing the chastely innocent placement of Snape’s hands. “Dinner!” she said, cheerfully enough, and held up one of Molly Weasley’s casserole dishes as proof.

 

Hermione smiled and extricated herself from Snape’s lap, hugging her friend and then taking the dish from her. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” she asked as the two girls headed towards the kitchen. “I’m just going to bring a tray up for Poppy, I’m not sure she could manage the stairs again tonight.”

 

“I’ll stay,” Ginny agreed, “as I have some questions for your friend out there.”

 

“Sure, Gin. I’m sure he’ll try to answer your questions. Here he is now,” she added, and turned around to see Snape stepping into the kitchen. “Ginny wants to talk to you over dinner, Professor,” she smiled at him.

 

“Of course,” he replied, tearing his gaze from Hermione to greet her friend. “Miss Weasley. May I offer my condolences on the loss of your brother? He was quite the character. I’m sure you and your family miss him terribly.”

 

Ginny smiled sadly. “We do, very much. Thank you.”

 

“I’ll bring Poppy’s tray up and be right back, you two go ahead and start without me. Won’t be long.”

 

Ginny and Snape sat down at the kitchen table and served themselves from the steaming casserole dish. “Ohhh it’s shepherd’s pie. I love Molly’s shepherd’s pie,” Snape said, mostly to himself, and spooned some more onto his plate before taking a large forkful, savouring it. When he looked up Ginny was watching him, her own fork frozen in mid-air.

 

“Hermione wasn’t kidding,” she said faintly, setting the fork down without eating. “You’re definitely different, Professor.”

 

Snape smiled. “Thanks, in large part, to Hermione,” he admitted. “I believe her blood saved me in many ways.”

 

“I did some reading on blood bonds last night,” Ginny said quietly, picking up her fork and using it to move food around on her plate rather than eating. “I was a little disturbed about the part where a blood bond between adults often leads to sexual relationships, and then sometimes to soul bonds.”

 

Snape flushed, and considered his response. “That’s something Hermione and I are working on right now,” he admitted, surprised at his own honesty and willingness to confide in Ginny, even knowing that his words would be shared with her tightly-knit circle of friends. “Working on  _ avoiding _ , I should say. It’s both an attraction and a compulsion. The fact that she’s gorgeous and brilliant to boot only makes it more difficult. But she’s still my student. At least until she takes her Potions N.E.W.T.”

 

Hermione, who had appeared in the doorway without either noticing, spoke up. “Does that mean if I take my N.E.W.T. in November, we can…”

 

“Shag like bunnies?” Ginny supplied, looking half amused and half disgusted.

 

Both Snape and Hermione laughed, and Hermione sat down at the table, across from Snape, and served herself some dinner. Both of them stretched their legs out under the table so that their feet were touching, and then all three ate quietly for a few minutes.

 

“So…” Ginny began, “I get that you’ve changed a lot, Professor Snape. You seem happy. You seem...nice. Are you going to stay that way, when we get back to Hogwarts and life goes on? Please understand, I don’t mean to be rude. I just worry about Hermione.” She glanced at her friend. “She’s so badass, but she still has feelings. We just don’t want her to get hurt.”

 

“I don’t know what it will be like to be back at Hogwarts,” Snape admitted quietly, setting his fork down. “I don’t know how difficult it will be to go about a routine so familiar and yet so different. I don’t know if Hermione told you I shan’t be Headmaster,” he said, and Ginny nodded. “I’m just going to teach Potions. No extra-curriculars for now, other than tutoring Hermione for her Potions N.E.W.T. and then- oh! You should be the one to tell your friends, Hermione, I’m sorry.”

 

Hermione grinned. “Show him, Gin.”

 

Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out her charmed coin, offering it to Snape. He took it gingerly and read the tiny words: “POTIONS APPRENTICESHIP AHHHHHH!” Snape laughed, handing the coin back to Ginny. “I guess I needn’t have worried!”

 

They were all quiet for a moment, finishing their dinner. At last Snape spoke again. “I guess what I can promise, Miss Weasley, is that I will never be cruel. I don’t know what kind of moods I’ll be in or days I’ll have, but I do know that. My days of tormenting students are over. And whether it was my personality, or a curse, or a combination thereof...that will never be a part of me again. I have much to atone for.” Ginny nodded solemnly, and Snape drew a deep breath. “So while I have you here, I offer my sincere and wholehearted apology for every time I have been anything less than kind to you, Miss Weasley. You are a true Gryffindor, brave and clever, and I am glad that Hermione counts you as a dear friend.”

 

Ginny smiled. “Thank you, Professor.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear. Well, the smut train has reached the station. All aboard!

After the washing up had been done, and Ginny had headed back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione checked in on Poppy while Severus got himself ready for bed. Once the Healer was safely tucked back into bed, Hermione dimmed the lights, changed into her pajamas, and stood outside the door to her parents’ room. She had given it to Snape in hopes that it would deter her almost constant desire for him, but so far it was making little difference. When he opened the door in a simple t-shirt and low-slung pajama pants, she bit back a whimper. The scars on his neck, still red and raw, did nothing to lessen her yearning for him, and his hair, freshly washed and soft around his face, made her want to run her fingers through it. “I...I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed for the night, Sir,” she murmured, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Her breathing was growing shallower by the moment, and she felt the flush on her chest and neck spreading to her face.  _ Damn it _ , she thought,  _ damn the blood bond and this sexy man and this insatiable body! _

 

Without a word, Snape reached out and pulled her in against him, the whole of her body nestling in against his, her arms wrapping around his waist. He buried his face in her wild hair, breathing her in, even as she nuzzled against his chest, lips grazing him through the fabric of his shirt. Her nearness had him hard almost instantly and before he could pull away, or stop her, she was grinding instinctively against him, pressing her softness to him, both of them making much too much noise. Snape cursed, whirling around with Hermione still in his arms and dragging her into the bedroom, closing the door before Poppy Pomfrey could catch them rutting against each other in the hallway. With his hips he pinned Hermione against the wall beside the door, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that he would worry he was cutting off her air if he couldn’t feel her shuddering breaths. Her breasts heaved against his chest, and both of their pajama pants were wet where they were trapped between them.  _ Oh, god, _ he thought,  _ she’s so wet, so wet for  _ **_me_ ** , and he lifted her so that her legs parted, letting the whole of his shaft stroke against her pussy. She cried out, the sound muffled in his chest, and the sound was enough to jar him back to his senses.  _ Oh, shit. Way to go, Severus Snape, you’re doing a really great job of keeping your hands off her.  _ He made to pull away, loosening his hold, but she wouldn’t let him, wrapping her legs around his hips, curling her arms up and around his neck. He could feel her juices soaking him as she continued to slide back and forth along his shaft.

 

“Hermione.” He meant it to be a warning, but instead it was a moan. “Hermione, we mustn’t…”

 

“Please,” she gasped, throwing her head back, meeting his burning gaze. “we both know we can’t go on like this for months. We can’t. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.” Hermione bit her lip. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and it was focused entirely on the need to have Severus Snape inside her. She couldn’t think of anything else. All thoughts of where they were (her parents’ bedroom!) and who might hear (poor, sweet Poppy!) had vanished in her desperation.

 

She was taking over his senses. She was all he could see, her flushed face and burning eyes. His ears rang with her pleas. All he could smell was her desire, and it made him long to bury his face between her thighs, to taste her and bring her pleasure. And all he could feel was her lush body wrapped around his. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, trying to calm himself. “Hermione, we agreed. We have so many reasons not to do this.”

 

Hermione’s lips trembled. They were so close, just scraps of cotton and noble willpower to tear away and then she could have him. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, lips parted and wet, and he growled low in his throat. “Please, Sir,” she whispered. “Please. Sev...Severus. Please.”

 

Snape growled again, and she shuddered against him. “Please…” she whispered once more, but it was captured in his mouth as he leaned in and kissed her at last.

 

There were fireworks exploding inside her, Hermione thought, as Snape’s lips and tongue plundered her mouth. His tongue teased her lips until she opened them and then his tongue danced with hers, and she barely noticed him reaching down to adjust himself until he pressed her forward again and she found herself grinding against the ridge of his cock between them. She whimpered into his mouth and he responded by capturing her bottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make her hips jerk against his. His hands were on her ass, holding her against him, and he moved them away from the wall, collapsing onto the bed with her beneath him. He held himself up above her with one hand, the other sliding up under her t-shirt, gliding across the flat planes of her belly and up to her breasts.

 

Her hands were in his hair, tangling themselves in it as she held him there, kissing him more greedily than he’d ever been kissed in his life. In fact, he’d never experienced anything like this. A few fumbling encounters, one night stands, but never anything on this level of passion.

 

Ignoring these thoughts along with the ones reminding him why this shouldn’t be happening, Snape allowed his fingers to wander down again, gliding beneath the waistband of her pajama pants, and Hermione gasped into his mouth. She bucked up against his hand as his fingers slid gently through the short hair there, her whole body stilling as he neared her pussy. He brushed lightly across her slightly swollen lips, feeling her wetness coating his fingers. She was panting into his mouth now, and the whole rest of her body was vibrating faintly in anticipation. He tore his lips from hers, looking down at her. Her hair was wild across the bed, her eyes wide with desire, lips swollen from his kisses. He had never seen anything more beautiful. 

 

“Hermione,” he breathed, “baby,” and then he pressed slightly against her mound so that his fingers slid to either side of her clit, and tugged gently. She shrieked, her hips bucking up to him, and he sat up on his knees so that he could use both hands; into her pajama pants, then slowly easing two fingers inside of her dripping pussy as she thrashed on the bed. His long fingers found the barrier he’d been half-afraid he’d find, and he began stroking it, stretching it, his fingers filling her completely as his other hand played slowly with her clit, not quite letting her come, keeping her at the edge. He was watching her face, feeling his own excitement growing unbearably.

 

Hermione whimpered, craving the tumble into sweet release but never wanting this to end. His fingers were filling her, stretching her, making her crave things she’d never known.

 

Snape shifted again, so that he could use his thumb to rub her clit, switching now to thrusting his fingers firmly in and out of her dripping pussy, leaning over her again, biting at her lips. “Come for me, baby,” he murmured into her mouth. “That’s it, just let go. Give it all to me.” His pace didn’t waver, his fingers thrusting in and out in firm, even strokes, as he felt her walls fluttering and tightening around him. “That’s it,” he growled encouragingly against her lips, “That’s it, my good girl.”

 

Hermione screamed as she shattered in Snape’s arms, her hips bucking up and pressing his fingers deeper inside her, sending another shuddering jolt of pain and pleasure through her core. She shrieked, biting down on Snape’s lower lip, and he cried out in return, his hips rutting helplessly against her. His cock ached, a steady stream of precum leaking from the tip, and without warning Hermione closed her fingers around him. He moaned helplessly into her mouth, kissing her as though she were an oasis in the desert, sucking at her lips, her tongue, as her small hand stroked him through his wet pajama bottoms. Impatiently and wandlessly she disposed of his pants, leaving him naked from the waist down, her fingers just as hot as his skin. Suddenly he blinked and he was lying on his back, Hermione kneeling above him, both of her hands on his shaft and her lips descending hesitantly towards the head of his cock.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This train is for Smut, and the next station is Angst. Tickets, please!

“Hermione, no,” Snape protested as she bent over him, seemingly intent on taking his cock into her mouth. “You don’t have to do that, baby.”

 

She paused and looked at him. “Of course I don’t,” she said, surprised. “But I want to. I’ve never...This is all new to me. I probably won’t be any good at it. But I...want to.”

 

Snape smiled gently, reaching down and unwrapping her fingers from around his cock, pulling her up and into his arms. He cradled her against his chest. “Hermione, you’re amazing. You will, I am sure, be as extraordinary as you are in all other aspects. But not like this. Your first time should be...special, with someone your own age, who-“ suddenly Hermione’s hand was over his mouth, stopping the flow of well-intentioned words.

 

“I don’t want someone my own age, and how dare you decide for me what constitutes ‘special’? Damn you, Severus Snape, if you haven’t realized that it’s  _ you _ I want, for my first time, for every time!”

 

“I know you feel that way now. Please, understand that all these feelings, I feel them too. I want you desperately. I never want to not be touching you. But I don’t want to take advantage of you!”

 

“And I don’t want to take advantage of you!” She sighed. “Look, Professor, I’m not going to force myself on you. I know this whole thing is my own fault for messing with magic I didn’t understand. I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll just go.” Hermione tried to get up from his lap, but Snape wouldn’t let her.

 

“Don’t go.” He sighed. “Hermione, I’m sorry. It’s just that...I’m 38 years old. I’m covered in scars. I’m...damaged. In more ways than one. And I’m afraid. That if we...if we go too far, we’ll create a soul bond, instead of ‘just’ a blood bond. And then we’ll be magically bound to each other for the rest of our lives, and I don’t want that for you.”

 

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she redoubled her efforts to escape his grip. “Silly girl.  _ Listen _ . I don’t want that  _ for _ you. I didn’t say I don’t want it  _ with _ you.” He paused. “Honestly, baby, I don’t know  _ what _ I want. I wasn’t expecting to survive the war, Hermione. And I was cursed - or something - for twenty-some years. I don’t know who I am anymore. I mean, I kind of like this version of myself. I seem to be an ok guy. But I have so much to atone for…” he sighed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said softly. “I’m not making it any easier on you, either.”

 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, baby. Your insatiable appetite is...delicious. And don’t think for an instant that I don’t long to…” he lowered his voice self-consciously “...fuck you into next week. You are beautiful and brilliant and I am so grateful to you.” Hermione twitched against him, and he smiled. “Again?”

 

“But...it’s not fair. To you.”

 

“Ahhh yes, Hermione Granger’s legendary sense of fairness.” As he spoke, Snape flipped her onto her back on the bed, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her pajama pants and drawing them down, exposing her creamy skin to his heated gaze. “Not everything in life is fair, baby,” he said, his hands sliding between her thighs and parting them. He drew a deep breath, watching her pussy quiver in anticipation. He looked up and met her eyes, drinking in the sight of her, and then buried his face between her legs.

 

Hermione cried out as she felt his tongue circle her clit for the first time. It was both more gentle and more pleasurable than she had imagined, but it was nothing compared to the ecstasy when he opened his mouth, sucked her clit and pussy lips into his mouth, and tugged. Her hips bucked, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his mouth to her and grinding up into it. She was writhing beneath him now and his hands were pressing down on her hips to hold her still. He was sucking and almost biting at her, surely this was too rough for her first time but the more he did it the more she shrieked in pleasure, and the more her juices soaked his chin. He slid one hand down to wrap around his cock, stroking himself efficiently, carelessly, just desperate for the contact.

 

Hermione screamed as she came again, and again, and just as she began to be too sensitive, Snape tore his mouth from her pussy and growled in release as he came, his come soaking into Hermione’s discarded bottoms.

 

He sagged in relief, and Hermione, though trembling herself, helped him get properly onto the bed and lying down. She cuddled up against his side, one leg thrown over his, and nestled into him, throwing a light blanket over them both and promptly falling straight to sleep.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Hermione woke in the night, chilled, and slipped out of the bed. She muttered a spell to clean her pajamas and put them on, moving quietly in the dark. She went to check on Madam Pomfrey, who was sleeping soundly (clearly the soundproofing she’d secretly warded into the walls was working), and got a glass of water from the bathroom. She stood for a while in the doorway of her old bedroom with its narrow bed, but returned to her parents’ room where Snape lay snoring softly, his hand stretched out where she had been, as though reaching for her. Hermione grinned, getting a second blanket and spreading it onto the bed before crawling back in, fitting herself along the curl of Snape’s body so that he was wrapped around her.

 

She lay awake for some time, her brain moving at a thousand miles a second. She considered their current predicament.  _ What would happen when, in a couple of weeks, Snape was cleared to go back to Hogwarts? Could she go with him to help with the rebuilding? Once term started, would she be able to sneak off to be with him? _

 

She felt his cock stiffen in his sleep and wondered if he was dreaming of her. She pressed back into him slightly but did not want to wake him.  _ Would he ever have sex with her properly _ ? she wondered.  _ What would it be like? Well, that was a stupid question. Everything so far had been insanely hot; the fucking would be, too. _

 

_ Was it only so hot because of the blood bond? What if their blood bond expired and a soul bond hadn’t been forged? Would the sex be only mediocre? Would he stop wanting her? Would she stop wanting him? Did she want a soul bond?! _

 

Finally Hermione confronted something that had been bothering her ever since she’d learned of the blood bond.  _ Having finally been freed from his service to two manipulative masters, how terrible it felt that she had enslaved him in a completely different way. Did it matter that she had done it out of care and concern? Did it matter that she was starting to maybe fall a little bit in love with him, sort of? Or was it still just straight-up enslavement? _ Hermione sighed and squirmed, uncomfortable with her thoughts and angry with herself. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice that Snape’s breathing had changed, or that he was now pressing rather more firmly against her bottom. She did, however, notice when his arm curled possessively around her.

 

He was murmuring into her hair, and while she couldn’t make out the words, she could feel his magic seeping into her, flowing through her veins, curling around and around her like golden chains of protective spells. She stayed still, not knowing if he was aware she was awake, and felt him weave his magic like a loving blanket around her. Eventually he drifted back to sleep, and Hermione lay quietly awake once more.

 

In some ways she felt better; in others, worse. Finally she sighed and forced herself to go to sleep, safe in Severus Snape’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but a little angsty. What’s bothering Hermione has been bothering me from the very beginning of the story; I’m writing Chapter 32 I think right now and I still haven’t quite worked out this dilemma.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

When Snape woke the following morning, it was to Hermione’s wand vibrating on the nightstand. She stirred in his arms and then bolted out of the bed, grabbing her wand and running out of the bedroom without a word.

 

Snape lay quietly in the bed, reflecting on the deep and peaceful sleep he had just enjoyed. Would he sleep so well every night if he just held her in his arms? He’d only woken the once. He hadn’t slept so peacefully in over twenty years.

 

After what seemed a long while, Hermione returned, tapping gently at the door before coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

“Is Poppy all right?” Snape asked quietly, and Hermione nodded.

 

“She’s fine. I made her some tea, she’s going to have breakfast in her room. I guess she’s not much of a chaperone after all,” Hermione smiled teasingly.

 

Snape snorted. “That’s probably for the best, after last night.” His face grew serious. “Do you think it would help if we set some ground rules?”

 

“What, like only 15-second kisses and no sitting on your lap?” Hermione was trying for light-hearted, but they could both hear the bitterness behind it.

 

He sighed. “This is new to me, baby. I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admitted. At her surprise he shrugged. “I guess it didn’t fit Dumbledore’s narrative. I’ve had...encounters. Obviously.” He drawled the word in such a familiar way that Hermione shivered. “So yes, I want to hold you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to make love to you and fuck you.” Hermione whimpered softly and he smiled. “But Hermione...that’s a  _ relationship _ . Not just a blood bond that we’re bound by, but a series of choices and consequences all its own. Are you sure you want that?”

 

“You’d have trouble, wouldn’t you, with the other teachers, parents, the Board?”

 

“It’s not illegal, if that’s what you mean. You’re over age. Once you’ve taken your N.E.W.T. you won’t be  _ my _ student anymore, and there’s never been a problem with relationships between Masters and Apprentices. It’s common, really. But it’s only June. Your N.E.W.T. wouldn’t be until November. That’s a long time.”

 

“It’s a long time to hide a relationship, but it’s a long time to try not to have one, too,” Hermione said seriously.

 

Snape tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You  _ want _ a relationship?!”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

“What about the risk of a soul bond? You can’t want to be tied to me forever. You may be brilliant, and mature, but you’re also still young, Hermione. I don’t say that to belittle your decision-making skills; it’s just the truth. Most people do not still want the same thing at forty that they wanted at eighteen or twenty.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Well, it’s an easy solution, isn’t it? We just...don’t fall in love.”

 

Snape stared at her, then began to laugh. “That’s...your plan? ...just don’t...fall...in love?”

 

“Sure,” Hermione said, managing to hold a straight face for a few seconds before collapsing into giggles.

 

By the time they had both composed themselves, they were, though both fully clothed, entangled together on the bed.

 

“Miss Granger?” came a somewhat frosty voice from the door, which neither had realized was wide open.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Hermione fought the impulse to leap guiltily out of Snape’s arms, as they both looked up to see Poppy Pomfrey sniffing disapprovingly in the doorway. “Good morning, Poppy,” Snape said pleasantly, and Hermione smiled.

 

“Severus. Miss Granger. I wasn’t aware there was to be an inappropriate student-teacher relationship brazenly happening under the same roof as I slept.”

 

Hermione’s smile faded. Snape sighed. “Poppy, we’re fully clothed, and the door is open. Surely Minerva did inform you that Hermione had accidentally-“

 

“ _ Completely accidentally _ ”, interjected Hermione.

 

“-completely accidentally created a blood bond between us,” Snape said calmly.

 

“She did,” Poppy admitted, “but that’s no reason to be behaving like a married couple!”

 

“I’m guessing blood bonds aren’t very common anymore,” Hermione said softly, slipping from Severus’ lap and getting up off the bed in an attempt to placate Madam Pomfrey. “Have you had much experience with them?”

 

The Healer shook her head stiffly. “No. That’s why we use blood-replenishing potions. To avoid them.”

 

“All right. Well, Professor Snape and I both are physically more comfortable when we’re near to each other, preferably touching. It’s still new to us, we’re still learning our boundaries and...negotiating.” She and Snape exchanged a long look, then she looked back at Madam Pomfrey. “But we don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she continued. “We will do our best to keep things...appropriate.”

 

Poppy sniffed again, but she was trying not to smile. “Miss Granger….Hermione. I do know what it’s like to be young and in lust and unable to keep your hands off each other. But you are still a student, and Severus is still your teacher. All I ask is for some...decorum.” She turned to go back to her room, and muttered under her breath, “or at least  _ close the door _ . Foolish children.”

 

Snape and Hermione took one look at each other and, once more, collapsed into giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this one is short and anticlimactic - hardly worthy of the cliffie which preceded it. The next one is long, expository, and smutty, I promise.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I promise? Long, expository, and smutty? Here ya go. With also squish.

The next few days were a bit of a blur. Snape was recovering quickly, gaining more and more strength. In the afternoons, he and Hermione would walk around the neighbourhood while Poppy sat with whichever visitors had come to call. 

 

Poppy was not recovering as quickly. She tired easily, ate little, and was uninterested in most of the goings-on, so long as she didn’t catch Hermione and Snape behaving too familiarly.

 

Spending all day, every day with Snape was not helping Hermione’s resolve not to fall in love with him. As he grew accustomed to his “new personality”, they discovered that he was just as clever, perceptive, and witty as always, and the new, softer tone made him a pleasure to spend time with. They had had no further incidences of accidental Legilimency.

 

Every evening one of Hermione’s friends would arrive with dinner and stay to chat, and they all seemed to find Snape’s transformation refreshing - all except for Neville, who barely stepped out of the fireplace on arrival, simply thrusting two paper bags into Hermione’s hands before disappearing again. “He’s not ready,” Snape said to Hermione, “and I don’t blame him.”

 

Luna, Mrs Weasley, and even Ron were all charmed. In each case, Snape had offered quiet but sincere condolences for their loss, allowed them to ask whatever questions they wanted, and then offered brief, but sincere apologies for his prior actions. 

 

Professor Sprout, who came mainly to visit Madam Pomfrey, was effusive in her delight for both Snape’s new attitude and his (much understated) relationship with Hermione (“You two are perfect for each other!”).

 

Hermione was starting to find it easier to control herself during the daytime, though having the run of the house for most of the day gave them plenty of opportunities for stolen kisses, quiet snuggles, and, memorably, a quick, rough fingering in the back garden.

 

They spent a lot of time reading, talking, and just sitting quietly. Every night, Hermione and Snape went to bed together. He would bring her to climax over and over with his fingers and mouth, always refusing her attempts to return the favour, though at least he had stopped attempting to deny his own pleasure, and would bring himself to quick release as well. Then they would sleep, sometimes waking up in the night to do it all again.

 

On the afternoon of the fifth day, while Madam Pomfrey was at St Mungo’s with Luna for a follow-up appointment, Hermione and Snape found themselves sitting side by side in the back garden, each with a book. Snape set his book aside and reached across the gap between their loungers, running the tips of his fingers down Hermione’s bare arm, making her shiver. Willingly dropping her book, she moved across to his chair, straddling his lap and leaning into him. “I actually just wanted your attention,” he laughed, cradling her against him.

 

“Well, you certainly have it now,” she replied. “Did you need something?”

 

“Only you. Always you.”

 

Hermione grinned and kissed the tip of his long nose. His hair was growing shaggier, and she ran her fingers through it.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Where are your parents? I mean, why are they in Australia?”

 

She sighed. “I was afraid for them. Before we went off to look for the Horcruxes, I modified their memories. They don’t remember me at all, they think they had sold this house and they moved to Australia. And I...I don’t know if it’s possible to get them back, really, to give the same memories back to them.” Snape was staring at her with a strange expression on his face. “What?”

 

“Horcruxes?” he asked hoarsely, and she nodded.

 

“That’s what Dumbledore asked Harry to do - destroy V-Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”

 

“That’s what the sword was for? And why you came back to Hogwarts when you did?”

 

Hermione nodded. “Yes. The sword we used on the locket. Ron did. And then Neville used it again, on the...snake.”

 

“Can you...are you comfortable telling me what the others were?”

 

Hermione considered the question. “I don’t see why not. The first one got destroyed five years ago, it was a diary. The one Lucius Malfoy gave to Ginny, you know.” He nodded gravely. “One was the ring that cursed Professor Dumbledore’s hand. He destroyed that one. There was a cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. That’s why we broke into Gringotts

. We sort of carried it around and then I destroyed it with basilisk venom.” He raised an eyebrow and she grinned, then her smile faded. “The locket...Slytherin’s locket. That one was awful. We carried it around for months, passing it between us, taking turns. We needed desperately to destroy it but nothing worked. And then your Patronus showed Harry where to find the sword, and that part was finally over.” Snape nodded, his hands gently stroking her back. “Ravenclaw’s diadem. That’s what we came to Hogwarts for. It turned out to have been in the Room of Requirement the whole time. It was destroyed when that idiot Crabbe cast Fiendfyre. And Nagini was a Horcrux. Neville pulled the sword from the Sorting Hat and killed her.”

 

“That crazy bastard made  _ six _ Horcruxes?” Snape was incredulous.

 

“Six on purpose. And one...not on purpose.”

 

“What was the other one?”

 

“...Harry.”

 

“ _ Harry Potter was a fucking Horcrux _ ?!”

 

Hermione nodded.

 

“So when Dumbledore sent him into the forest to sacrifice himself, that’s why he lived? The Dark— _ Voldemort  _ cast  _ avada kedavra _ and killed the Horcrux inside Potter, but Potter himself lived.”

 

“We think so.”

 

Snape was silent for several moments, his hands slowly stroking Hermione’s back as he processed the information. “That crazy son of a bitch,” he said finally, softly and without rancor. “That manipulative bastard bet Potter’s life on his being right.” Finally he looked up and his eyes settled on Hermione, who was still sitting astride his thighs. He slid his hands down to her waist, which while still narrow, was filling out some as the gauntness was leaving her.

 

He slipped his fingers under the edge of her t-shirt, smoothing his thumbs up across her belly. He brushed across the silvery scar, souvenir from the Department of Mysteries, and came up to her breasts, caressing them through the lace of her bra. Hermione purred softly, her hips twitching slightly. She was so responsive, so immediately turned on by his touch. She was spoiling him for life, he knew; he would forever compare any others to her...if he ever took another lover. Right now it was hard to imagine wanting anyone else. “Take the shorts off,” he murmured to her, and she looked apprehensively around the garden. “No one can see, and we have at least an hour before anyone is back.”

 

Hermione stood and removed her shorts and knickers, while Snape lowered the back of the chair so that he was lying flat. “Come here,” he said gently, “put your knees here.” He gently guided her down so that she was straddling his face, his hands stroking her thighs. He kissed the insides of her thighs, feeling her quivering slightly in anticipation. “Oh, Hermione,” he breathed, his breath tickling her and making her tremble even more. Lifting his head, he pulled her hips down, pulling her pussy down onto his face. Despite the submission of his position beneath her, he was very much in control, and Hermione loved it. She moaned as he nosed between her damp folds, just the tip of his tongue circling her before he devoured her, alternately licking patiently and sucking greedily, biting and tugging, then soothing. He played her like an instrument and within minutes she was thrashing in ecstasy.

 

Hermione came over and over, coating his face in her sticky juices, and then collapsed slowly, toppling backwards until she was lying awkwardly on her back across his chest. He held her so she didn’t fall, feeling her boneless weight resting on him. He could feel the exact moment her attention turned to his cock, trapped in his jeans. He felt her stroke him through the fabric, and let her, staring up at the blue sky. He let her play until she reached for his zipper and then he sat up, catching her as she would have tumbled from his lap, lifting her easily in his arms. “No, baby. Here, put your shorts back on.”

 

Hermione pouted but complied. “I was thinking we should go shopping tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

 

“Shopping?” The word felt foreign in his mouth. “What for?”

 

“Well, you need more clothes, we can’t just keep washing these ones. And I thought you might like to get a new wand,” she said softly, watching his face.

 

“Oh!” he breathed in surprise. “Yes, I suppose I will need one. Is Ollivander back in business already?”

 

“Oh, no. I don’t think he’ll be able to work again. But someone took over his shop, set it all back up. They’re selling what he had in stock, and his apprentices are working on new wands. A lot of people lost theirs, between the Muggle-borns’ being confiscated and destroyed, and the Battle.”

 

Snape nodded.

 

“We have to go to St Mungo’s tomorrow for your follow up appointment anyway,” Hermione said. “Well, you do.”

 

“We,” Snape smiled. “I like being ‘we’ with you, baby. Well, that sounds all right. Maybe I’ll enjoy shopping more if I’m doing it with someone I ...like.” They exchanged a long glance. “Right, I’ll set the table for dinner,” Snape said, getting up off the lounger. “You should keep reading until Poppy gets back.”

 

“It’s Harry’s night for tea,” Hermione said quietly. “I know you and he have quite a bit to talk about.”

 

Snape blew a breath out through his pursed lips and nodded. “Who set up this dinner scheme, anyway?”

 

“Luna, of course. She didn’t want me overwhelmed since we didn’t know how much care Poppy would need, and I’m not a very good cook. She figured if I didn’t have to worry about tea, at least, it would be less on my plate. She thinks of everything. And then she bullied everyone into volunteering.” She grinned.

  
“Your friends care about you very much, Hermione.” Snape smiled and headed for the back door.  _ And so do I, _ he thought to himself.  _ Much too much. _


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

When the doorbell rang at half-past five, Snape went to open the door. He smiled at Harry and reached out to take one of the heavy-looking bags he was carrying. “Hi,” Snape said politely, “come in!” Leading a bemused Harry to the kitchen, Snape spoke over his shoulder. “It’s probably odd for me to be answering Hermione’s door,” he apologized, “but look at her, I couldn’t disturb her.” He gestured out the kitchen window, where Hermione had fallen asleep on the lounger in the late-afternoon sun, her book open across her chest.

 

“She does look peaceful,” Harry agreed. “I can probably get this ready and let her rest a bit longer.”

 

“Poppy is also asleep, upstairs,” Snape replied, setting the bag on the table and beginning to unpack it. “Luna brought her straight up when they got back from St Mungo’s. She’s exhausted.”

 

“So…” Harry said awkwardly, as he began to assemble the salad he’d brought, and Snape smiled.

 

“Do you mind if I say something, Mr Potter, before you begin asking the many questions I’m sure you have?”

 

“Harry, please, Professor.”

 

“Well, then, you’ve no need to call me Professor, either. After all, I hear you’re not coming back to Hogwarts this year. I won’t be your teacher.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “No need for anyone to be called ‘Sir’.” Harry smiled almost despite himself. “Harry, you can call me whatever you want. ‘Severus’ is fine, but ‘you horrible git’ would be well within your rights.”

 

Harry looked up from the lettuce he was cutting and stared at Snape.

 

“That’s what I wanted to say, Harry. I...I owe you more of an apology than anyone - save perhaps Mr Longbottom. I was horrible to you, awful. Cruel. I am so, so very sorry. I’m not even asking for forgiveness, because I don’t feel like you deserve that kind of pressure on top of everything else you’ve been through. Just know that I am deeply, sincerely sorry for every cruel, heartless moment between us. You deserved so much better.”

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Harry admitted, looking back down at the salad. He scooped the lettuce into the bowl and moved on to the cucumber, slicing evenly. “After watching your memories in the Pensieve, I felt like I understood you a lot better. But now I’m not so sure. You’re not really the same person now, I don’t think.”

 

“No,” Snape admitted gravely, his eyes on the young lady asleep in the garden.

 

“You really care about Hermione, don’t you?”

 

“We have a blood bond. Even without factoring in… everything else, I would care about her.”

 

“But with ‘everything else’,” Harry prompted, and watched his former Professor’s cheeks flush.

 

“She’s everything I would choose for myself,” Snape admitted. “Brilliant, logical, cunning, brave, loving. But she’s so young. I can’t do that to her. She deserves more. Someone younger, with more life ahead of them than behind. Someone without a Dark Mark on their arm.”

 

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret about Hermione,” Harry said quietly, dicing a tomato. “She won’t take kindly to you making decisions for her. You get to decide if she’s right for you. But only she gets to decide if you’re right for  _ her _ .” There was a pause, as Harry finished the salad and washed the knife and cutting board in the sink. “That said, she has a  _ lot _ of honourary brothers.”

 

Snape smiled. “I know she has, and I’m thankful for every one of them.” His gaze left Harry to settle on Hermione again, as though he couldn’t help it, before looking back to Harry and meeting his green eyes. “I’m sorry about Fred,” he said softly. “Lupin, Tonks. And I believe Hermione mentioned young Mr Creevey. Harry, I’m so sorry for all the losses you’ve endured.”

 

“It was a war,” Harry said shortly. “People die in wars.” He paused, softening. “You must have lost people you care about, too.”

 

Snape’s eyes went back to Hermione, as though pulled there by a magnet. “I would not say I  _ cared _ for any of the Death Eaters,” he said quietly. “And certainly not the Dark- _Voldemort_. But the students… Mr Goyle, Miss Brown, Mr Weasley… well, all of them, really, to some degree. That saddens and horrifies me.” He looked back at Harry. “I didn’t cast a single curse on a student or Order member,” he said quietly, his eyes on Harry’s so the younger man could see his sincerity. “I wasn’t even disarming people. A few healing spells. I swear to you.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know.” He took a deep breath and looked around the kitchen, then out the window. “I don’t mind if Hermione hears the rest of our conversation, and Mrs Weasley’s casserole will get cold if we don’t wake her for dinner,” Harry said, and Snape nodded.

 

“I’ll go get her,” the older man said, and went out into the garden. Conscious of Harry at the window, he shook Hermione’s shoulder gently. She woke slowly, stretching and blinking like a cat in the sun. Finally she leapt from the lounger, throwing her arms around Snape’s neck. He swung her around playfully and then set her on her feet, giving a gentle shove towards the door, and she bounded into the kitchen.

 

“Hiya, Harry!” she exclaimed happily. “That smells so good, thank you!”

 

Harry wrapped her in a hug, and then they sat down to eat, Hermione deciding to wait until Poppy woke before bringing a tray upstairs.

 

“Sorry I slept so long,” Hermione said, “I was having such a nice dream!” Snape’s cheeks flushed again, and she laughed. “You weren’t even there, Professor. It’s not always about you!” Snape tried to look offended, but his smile was too indulgent.

 

“Tell us about your dream, then,” Harry said, “as long as it’s not anything private.”

 

“I was sitting in a field with Luna and Ginny,” Hermione said, “we were younger. Making flower chains and dreaming of the future. It was just...peaceful.”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Harry agreed. “How have your nightmares been?”

 

“Better,” Hermione smiled, glancing at Snape. “I’ve been sleeping very well,” she admitted.

 

Harry glanced from one to the other of them and deduced what wasn’t being said. He suppressed a shudder and made no comment. “So...can we talk about the whole...curse thing?”

 

“Of course,” Snape nodded. “I’m not sure if curse is the right word, though I guess it must be. I believe that when I was in third or fourth year, Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to...shape my destiny.” His mouth turned wryly. “That sounds suitably dramatic. Anyway, I won’t say it was a sudden change, it was fairly subtle. But I went from being a sullen, picked on kid, who at least had friends, to being a kid who was obsessed with the Dark Arts and had started to think that the Dark-  _ Voldemort _ \- had the right idea. And, Harry, I want to be very clear about something: it wasn’t your dad’s fault. He and his friends were bullies, yes, but they weren’t evil. They were just kids trying to impress their friends. And no matter what happened to me as a child, that did not give me permission to bully you in return. My words and actions were inexcusable.”

 

There was a pause as all three finished their dinners and digested his words.

 

“Harry, I have a lot of conflicting feelings about Albus Dumbledore. I imagine you do, too.” Harry nodded, and Snape continued. “But I believe that, while his vision of what  _ entailed _ the ‘Greater Good’ may have changed, he never stopped working towards it. No matter what he did, all of his machinations and manipulations, they weren’t for personal gain. Albus lived a long, lonely, and tormented life. He died in terrible pain, with the added anguish of not knowing whether his plan would work or not.” Snape paused reflectively. “He was relying on an awful lot of moves working out the way he hoped. You, me, Hermione, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom, Minerva, everyone. So many people had parts to play, and I wonder how many of us knew we were being set up, and to what extent.”

 

“You were the most important, though,” Harry said shrewdly.

 

“I rather think  _ you _ were, Harry,” Snape demurred. “You did the job.”

 

“Only because you’d prepared me for it,” Harry countered.

 

“Okay, boys, let’s break it up,” Hermione teased.

 

“So here’s a question,” Harry said slowly. “Professor Trelawney didn’t make her prophecy until 1979, right? So... how did Dumbledore know in, like, 1974, that he would need you? Why would he curse a seemingly random Slytherin kid - no offence, Professor - to what he doomed you to? Before my parents were even together?”

 

Snape stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted slowly, and looked away. “I could be wrong about all of it. Maybe I just don’t want to believe that I turned into a raging, furious monster all on my own,” he said softly, staring at the table.

 

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione got up from the table, leaning over the back of Snape’s chair and wrapping her arms around him from behind. He let her, but didn’t move.

 

“I’d better go,” Harry said quietly. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s cheek, then held out a hand to Snape. “For what it’s worth… Severus… I wasn’t trying to cast doubt on your theory. I do think something happened to you. I just wonder why.”

 

Snape looked up and nodded, shaking Harry’s hand, looking for and finding the sincerity in his green eyes - the eyes that used to cause him such pain. Snape smiled. “You’re growing into a good man, Harry Potter, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Harry said quietly, and stepped out into the back garden to Apparate home.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Hermione stood up and let Snape move his chair back, and then sat down on his lap, curling her arms around his neck. “How do you feel?” she asked gently.

 

“Better. I’ve been waiting all week to speak to Harry properly, tell him how sorry I am. I’m glad I had the opportunity. Imagine if I’d died, Hermione. You’d all only have known the colossal asshole that I was, you’d all be trying to decide whether what I did was justified, whether I was redeemed.” He paused. “I don’t think it was. What if Harry’s right? I know he didn’t mean to suggest I was just making it up, but it’s got me wondering,” he admitted.

 

Hermione held him more tightly. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But now you do have the chance to redeem yourself to everyone. You have the chance to be the amazing teacher you’ve always had the potential to be. To teach a whole new generation.”  _ With me at your side _ , she added silently.

 

Snape smiled at her. “Thank you, baby.” Just then, Hermione’s wand alerted her that Poppy had woken up. “I’ll tidy up down here while you see to Poppy,” he offered, and she smiled, collecting the tray. “See you soon,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

 

Some time later, when Hermione entered Snape’s bedroom, she found him reclining on the bed. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he looked so wonderful to her. “Poor Poppy is worn right out,” she commented. “How are you doing?”

 

“I’m very well,” Snape replied. “I feel strong. I think my convalescence is coming to an end. We should probably talk about that.”

 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Hermione replied, closing the bedroom door and sitting down on the bed beside him.

 

“So, what does the brightest witch of her age think we should do?”

 

Hermione swatted his arm, and laughed when he caught her hand and dragged her across his lap. She smiled up at him. “I think all three of us - you, me, and Poppy - should move to Hogwarts. Poppy is not doing that great. Luna said the doctors were concerned today at her follow-ups. It’s not that she’s not getting better, but she’s not getting much strength back. Maybe at Hogwarts she’ll perk up a bit, and there’s all her assistants there to help care for her. I’m sure having Professors Sprout and McGonagall to visit with would help too.”

 

Snape nodded, “I agree that Poppy would be better off at Hogwarts. But I’m surprised you want us to go, too.”

 

“I don’t,” Hermione admitted. “I  _ want _ you and I to stay here,  _ alone _ , and spend all day every day making mad, passionate love.” Snape smiled indulgently. “But I knew what you’d say if I suggested that,” Hermione continued. “And you only agreed to stay here if we had a chaperone,” she added.

 

“Yes, and a whole lot of good that’s done us,” Snape admitted. “Your soundproofing charm is excellent.”

 

Hermione shrugged off the compliment. “If we go to Hogwarts we’ll have other things to think about and spend time doing. We can help with the restorations, get your classroom set up for September, and maybe we can start working on my N.E.W.T. studies.”

 

Snape nodded slowly.

 

Hermione said reluctantly, “The part that worries me…”

 

“...is that we will have to sleep apart again,” he finished.

 

“I don’t want to be apart from you, Severus. I need to be close to you.” She seemed not to notice she’d used his given name; she was lying on her back, half across his legs. Her hands were resting on her stomach. He reached for her hand and held it gently.

 

“I know, baby. I feel the same way.” He paused, studying her face. “I had an idea about that.”

 

Hermione sat up, meeting his eyes eagerly. “What is it?”

 

“Well, there are apartments at Hogwarts set aside for visitors. Some of them are similar to the dorms, with multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, and common rooms. Maybe Minerva would let us stay in one of those, if we were at least seeming to have our own bedrooms.”

 

Hermione mulled it over. “We could  _ have _ our own bedrooms, for working and studying and stuff, as long as we still sleep together.” He nodded. “That would be wonderful. I wonder what they’re planning to do with the returning students, like me. All the muggle-borns who didn’t finish their year. Maybe they’ll use those apartments. If that was the case, maybe Professor McGonagall would just let us stay in our apartment all year.”

 

Snape nodded. “That would be ideal. I have no desire to return to my old rooms in the dungeon,” he admitted. “I don’t even want to go in there. If Minerva approves of the plan, I’ll have the house elves bring my clothes and books up to our new room.” He paused, considering. “Maybe just the books. We’re going shopping tomorrow, after all. We’ll get new teaching robes as well as clothes. Professorial rather than bat-like, eh?”

 

Hermione grinned, though her smile faded. “Sir? There’s something else I want to talk about.”

 

“Of course. Anything.”

 

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

 

His forehead wrinkled. “...You touch me all the time.”

 

“Your...you won’t let me give you pleasure. You won’t take your clothes off. You take me over the edge again and again. I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

 

Snape chewed on his lower lip. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. I do want you, as desperately as I’ve ever wanted anything.”

 

“And I want you. In my hands, mouth….inside me. And it’s...it’s not that you won’t let me. It’s that I don’t believe your reasons for saying no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly angsty cliffie. Next chapter is back to regularly scheduled squish and smut.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Geeklovefan.

Snape raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

 

Hermione swallowed, but carried on. “Wizards have sex all the time without developing soul bonds. I’m fairly confident that soul-bond-via-blowjob is not a very common occurrence. Even people who are in love, and have sex, don’t develop soul bonds, necessarily. Soul bonds are pretty rare, actually.”

 

“Yes, they are. But we’re much more likely than a normal...couple...to develop one. Because of the blood bond.”

 

“So our chances go from 100-1, to 50-1. That’s still not a guarantee. I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” Hermione’s eyes searched his face, then met his gaze and held there in silence.

 

“I _want_ it.” Snape’s voice was barely a whisper, and it took several moments of silence for Hermione to process what she’d heard.

 

“You _want_...a soul bond? With...me?”

 

Snape nodded, not meeting her eyes. “I know it’s too soon to know that,” he murmured. “I know it’s crazy. And it’s wholly, completely selfish. I want it for me, I want _you_ for me, for...always. But I meant what I said the other night, Hermione, it’s not what I want  _ for _ you. I want so much more and so much better, for you.” He saw her beginning to bristle, gave a nanosecond’s consideration to letting her get upset enough to have a fight and put off the inevitable for another day, but couldn’t do it. “I don’t get to decide that for you… I know. But it’s only been a week. How can we really know in only a week? I meant what I said the other night - I don’t know what I want for the future. Do I want to keep teaching for the rest of my life, or do something else? Do I want to be Headmaster again someday?” He shuddered. “Well, probably not. But I don’t know. And thankfully I don’t have to decide that now. All I have to do for now is present myself at Hogwarts and get ready to teach this year. Make it through this school year. And think about it.”

 

Hermione nodded, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs. “I don’t know what I want for the future, either,” she admitted. “I’ve considered so many options. Once I have a Mastery in Potions, it will open up a lot of opportunities. And I’ll still only be, what, 22 or 23? I could go to Muggle medical school, be a Healer combining magical and Muggle practices. I don’t know. Whatever it is, though, I want to help people.”

 

Snape smiled. “I don’t doubt that you will. You already do.”

 

“So...there’s an element of choice involved in a soul bond?” Hermione asked, and Snape’s smile faded. He nodded. “And you’re afraid that because you want it to happen, and given our already-increased likelihood, that it ups the chances even more.” He nodded again. “But it’s not an instantaneous thing, is it, it doesn’t just appear out of nowhere at the moment of..of climax.”

 

Snape sighed. “No, that’s true. A soul bond builds slowly, and it can have false starts. But there are...building blocks.”  _ And we’re already well on our way, _ he added silently. 

 

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to keep pressuring you for something you won’t give. We’ll have a lot going on in the next little while anyway if we’re moving to Hogwarts, and I should have my period soon too, anyway. Maybe a break from...sexy times...will be good for us.”

 

Snape’s eyes swept her face, and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “A break starting now?” he breathed into her ear, and she shivered, turning to curl her arms around him, nestling in close.

 

“Definitely not  _ now _ ,” she purred, and then he captured her lips with his. Though they had yet to share a single  _ chaste _ kiss, Hermione felt that this one was particularly dirty. Snape was alternately biting at her lower lip with his sharp teeth, and then sucking gently at the same place. It only took her a few seconds of hazy pleasure to realize he was mimicking the motions he made when his mouth was on her pussy, and she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his still-damp hair, her legs instinctively parting as one of his hands slid between her thighs. He went up the leg of her shorts, his fingers sliding easily between her slick folds, and she gasped into his mouth as he entered her, his other arm holding her tightly against him so that she couldn’t move. His thumb rubbed against her clit as he pushed his fingers deep inside her and stroked her inner walls. He held her hips so that she couldn’t buck up to his hand, tormenting her by moving just too slowly, just too erratically to let her come. Again and again he let her get close, then slowed, kissing her all the while.

 

Hermione was whimpering into his mouth, her hands leaving his hair and coming down to his waist, sliding under the hem of his t-shirt. He tensed briefly but didn’t stop her and she let her fingers wander up his back, distracting herself from his tormenting fingers by glorying in the feel of his skin under her hands. She stroked rather than exploring, ignoring the ridges of scars when she brushed past them, only touching him for the sheer pleasure of it. When he began to thrust more rhythmically inside her, she was holding onto him, her nails digging slightly into his back, her lips falling away from his as she threw her head back, panting as he drew her closer and closer to the edge.

 

He began whispering to her, almost growling the words, “Yes, baby, that’s it. Just let go, ride it out, don’t rush it. Just feel it, let it happen...good girl, just let it go…” He held her on the edge just a few more moments, and then leaned into her, his teeth scraping at the pulse point in her neck, and her whole body stiffened as she screamed in release, thrashing against him as he held her tightly, sucking at her neck as she spasmed again and again around his fingers.

 

Snape groaned against her neck. She was sitting sideways across his lap; it would be the work of just seconds to free his aching cock from his jeans, slide her shorts and knickers to the side, and enter her. He imagined her cry as he slid inside her for the first time and she stretched to accommodate him; the unbearable heat and moisture that would surround him; the feeling of finally being inside the woman he loved. With a shuddering cry he came, grinding up against her thigh, at just the thought of taking her at last.

  
It wasn’t until both of their breathing had slowed to normal and she’d cast cleansing charms on both of them, that he realized what he’d just admitted to himself.  _ I love her. Fuck. I love her. Severus Snape, you fucking idiot. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think both Severus’ and Hermione’s feelings are obvious to us, and everyone around them, but they’re both trying to fight them, for both the same and different reasons. So while Severus is honest enough with himself to admit that they’re at greater risk of a soul bond because of him and how he feels, it’s still a (not necessarily pleasant) revelation to him to realize that he’s thinking in terms of “the woman I love”.
> 
> Also, this feels like a good time to mention that while “my” Severus carries a lot of Alan Rickman in him (especially in looks and definitely in voice), my Hermione is quite separate from Emma Watson. This Hermione is quite possibly the most “Mary Sue”/author insert character I’ve ever indulged in, and actually, switching to writing hg/ss (from the Phrack I’ve been writing the last couple of years, for Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) was motivated in large part by a desire to write a more dominating-male-character relationship than is plausible within the established MFMM/Phrack universe.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

The following day dawned bright and sunny. Hermione leapt out of bed to assist Poppy in getting ready for the day, then had a shower herself. By the time she was ready, Snape had finished making breakfast, and the three sat down together to eat. Hermione filled Madam Pomfrey in on their thoughts about moving back to Hogwarts in the very near future, if Snape was cleared to get back to normal activity.

 

“I’ll miss the peace and quiet here,” Poppy admitted, “but it’ll be nice to be back home.”

 

“I hope you know it’s not that I don’t want to continue caring for you,” Hermione said nervously, but Poppy waved a hand.

 

“Of course not, dear. But both yours and Severus’ talents will be put to much better use helping out at Hogwarts than babysitting an old lady.” She looked from one to the other and sniffed. “I’m not sure I’ve been an effective chaperone, either.”

 

Hermione blushed, but Snape smiled serenely, buttering his toast without comment.

 

Later that morning, with Professor Sprout sitting with Madam Pomfrey, Hermione and Snape headed out for the day. She Apparated them both to the St Mungo’s Apparition point, and she was still holding his arm when they stepped into the hospital’s atrium and came face to face with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy.

 

Hermione loosened her hold at once, her right hand still on the wand stowed in her pocket; her left clenching at her side. Snape seemed unconcerned, greeting Draco and his mother calmly. Hermione hung back, nearly hiding behind Snape. Draco took a hesitant step forward and peered around Snape’s back. The expression on his face wasn’t a familiar one, but Hermione was so close to a fully-fledged panic attack that she couldn’t even register it. She clutched at the back of Snape’s shirt, and just as Draco was saying something, whether to her or Snape, she couldn’t tell, Hermione’s knees started to give out. Snape spun and caught her before she hit the floor, wrapping his arms around her. He spoke briefly to Narcissa, who nodded and swept away, then spoke reassuringly to Draco, who also nodded and backed away, joining his mother.

 

Snape sat down in one of the visitors’ chairs, cradling the shaking Hermione in his arms. “It’s all right, I’m here, you’re safe,” he repeated over and over, until her trembling slowed and her breathing approached normal. “It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

 

It took a long time for Hermione to regain control of herself, but when she did, she was almost instantly embarrassed. She hid her face in Snape’s chest. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered hoarsely.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Snape replied softly. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t know h-how much you h-heard about what happened at M-Malfoy M-Manor…”

 

“I heard some of it,” Snape said slowly, “but only from the - er - other point of view.” He swallowed. “Did they...hurt you?” Hermione nodded. Snape looked suddenly sick. “Hermione, did they-“

 

“No,” she said quickly. “N-nothing like that. It w-was B-Bellatrix, mostly…”

 

Snape winced. “I’m so sorry, baby.” They sat in silence for a moment, Snape at a complete loss for what to say.

 

“We’d b-better get up to your appointment,” Hermione said suddenly and briskly, getting up from his lap and smoothing her hair with her hands. A quick flick of her wand and his shirt was dry again; another and the traces of tears and sweat had vanished from her face. She looked tired, but presentable, and Snape wondered how often she had performed that little charm. “Come on,” she said quietly. “We’re already late.”

 

“All right,” Snape said softly, walking alongside her to the magical elevators.

 

“You’re friends with the Malfoys, right, with L-Lucius?”

 

“It’s complicated,” Snape admitted. “I don’t know if I’d call them friends now. Narcissa and Draco visited me the day before I was released, just after you’d left. They offered the Manor for my convalescence. I informed them I’d be staying with you.”

 

“Did you tell them about the blood bond?”

 

“I did,” he said slowly. “Is that all right?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “Were they here because Lucius is still admitted?” she asked, surprised.

 

Snape nodded as they exited the elevator. “Someone cast a curse that rebounded and hit him. They’ve had to regrow bones, muscle, teeth. He had seemed all right initially, I guess, it was slow-acting.” He shrugged. “He’ll be fine,” Snape said dismissively. “I’m much more worried about you. I think it might be a good idea to talk to someone?”

 

Hermione shrugged.

 

“You’ll see Draco at school, Hermione.”

 

“It wasn’t… him. It’ll be fine.”

 

Snape nodded and opened the door for her, and they entered the Healer’s office. After a few quick tests he was determined to be fit to do whatever he pleased, so long as he rested when he grew tired. By the time they left St Mungo’s, Hermione’s usual energy had returned, and as they left by the Muggle exit, he took her hand in his.

 

They wandered Muggle London together, stopping for lunch, visiting several department stores for jeans, shirts, pajamas, underwear. Snape had both lost some weight and didn’t know how much of his rooms had survived; he wanted a change, anyway.

 

Eventually they reached the Leaky Cauldron and went in. A quick glance told Hermione that there was no one she recognized; Snape kept hold of her hand regardless, and they walked through and then into Diagon Alley.

 

As they emerged into the street, Hermione was relieved to see that it had regained most of its former splendour already; shops that had been boarded up on her last visit had been re-opened; brightly-coloured moving posters decorated the walls. She exchanged a glance with Snape, and they each released the other’s hand, but continued to walk close together. They stepped into nearly every shop; Hermione’s beaded bag was coming in handy as they made purchase after purchase. In Flourish and Blotts they each chose a few dozen books; then Snape suggested several advanced Potions books for Hermione. After they’d each paid, they headed to Madam Malkin’s, where Snape was fitted for his new teaching robes, and he and Hermione chose several fabrics.

 

Finally they arrived at Gringotts, and Hermione exchanged Muggle money for gold while Snape visited his vault. It was the longest and the farthest they’d been apart since Snape’s release from St Mungo’s, and when he returned she leapt from her chair to greet him, barely restraining herself from hurling herself into his arms.

 

They exchanged a long look as they left the bank - This was going to be a long year.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

When they left Gringotts, they headed straight for Ollivander’s, where Snape was chosen by a springy, red oak wand with a dragon heartstring core. After a few sparkly flourishes, he used his first proper spell to pour heaps and heaps of blossoms into Hermione’s arms as she laughed, each one turning into a bubble that floated airily off into the London sky. Beaming, he wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s go home, shall we?” He asked, and she grinned.

 

Once back in Hampstead, they unpacked and organized all of their purchases, and then asked Professor Sprout to ask Professor McGonagall to stop by at her leisure. Snape, Hermione, and Madam Pomfrey sat in the front room, the latter knitting while the former sat with their new books. Hermione had her feet across Snape’s lap when Minerva McGonagall stepped from the fireplace. “Look at you all and this picture of domesticity,” she laughed, and took the wingback chair opposite the couch.

 

“Hello, Professor,” Hermione grinned. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

“No, dear; just came from dinner. But thank you.” She surveyed the three of them. “Pomona tells me you had a good follow-up appointment today, Severus.”

 

“Yes, I did. I’ve been cleared to return to normal activities. That’s why we’ve asked you here.” Snape related his and Hermione’s ideas for returning to Hogwarts, tactfully not mentioning that they would be sleeping in the same room.

 

McGonagall nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, with only one setback: that portion of the castle was quite heavily damaged. I suggest that you come back and help us with rebuilding it; you can stay in Gryffindor Tower, or Ravenclaw - wherever you want, really, as most of the castle is empty right now. The workers who are staying over are sleeping in the Hufflepuff dorms. This way you will be able to design your own apartment. Once the school year starts…” she trailed off, her eyes not leaving the two of them. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to hide your bond, Severus. Hermione. It glows between you, almost visible. I don’t know what we’ll tell people who ask; I guess we’ve got some time to think about it.”

 

“There will be quite a few returning ‘eighth years’ needing rooms, won’t there, Professor? I know of at least ten. What if similar quarters were used for them, and it just wasn’t obvious that mine happened to be with Professor Snape?”

 

McGonagall nodded. “That might work. We’ll have to play it by ear. I trust you’re both planning to be...discreet?”

 

Snape cleared his throat and nodded after a furtive glance at Poppy Pomfrey, who was clearly holding her tongue. McGonagall snorted. “Had some issues already, have you? Well, you’ll be the ones to suffer if anyone catches you behaving inappropriately.”

 

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione said sweetly.

 

“Right. Well, do you all want to make the big move tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, we’ll be ready.”

 

McGonagall nodded. “You can Floo straight to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione, Severus. And Poppy, you can go straight to your own room as usual. I’ll make sure it’s open for you tomorrow morning.”  As she spoke, the hearth came to life again, and Luna stepped through carrying dinner. “Perhaps Miss Lovegood will assist you.”

 

“Hello Professor McGonagall,” Luna said politely, “I’m happy to assist with whatever it is you need. Will you stay to supper? I’ve brought Chinese.”

 

“Thank you, dear, but I’ve already eaten. I was suggesting that you might help Madam Pomfrey Floo back to Hogwarts tomorrow morning and get settled into her old rooms there.”

 

“Oh, of course,” Luna said happily, then turned to Hermione. “Are you going to Hogwarts, too?”

 

“Yes, Professor Snape and I are going to help with the rebuilding.”

 

“That’s great,” Luna said happily. “I’ll let Mrs Weasley know not to make any more dinners for you!”

 

Hermione laughed. “I’ll speak to her, Luna. I owe her a great deal for all that she’s done. And you,” Hermione added, “have been brilliant, Luna. You’re truly a wonderful friend.”

 

Luna beamed, and took the bags of food into the kitchen. Professor McGonagall said her goodbyes, and Snape, Hermione, and Poppy headed into the kitchen to eat.

 

After a dinner filled with pleasant conversation, Luna volunteered to get Madam Pomfrey up to bed, leaving Hermione and Snape alone in the kitchen.

 

“So Minerva wants us to stay  _ alone _ in Gryffindor Tower?!” Snape exclaimed; he’d been holding it in since the older witch had left.

 

“What’s the difference between being alone in Gryffindor Tower, and being alone in an apartment that’s just ours? Anyway, I doubt she believes we’ve been as… restrained as we have,” Hermione admitted. “She probably thinks we’ve been - how did Ginny put it -  _ shagging like bunnies. _ ”

 

Snape’s cheeks flushed, and he stood to begin clearing dishes from the table. “I don’t like that there are so many people speculating about our sex life,” he muttered.

 

“Nor do I  _ particularly _ ,” replied Hermione, opening the fridge door and doing a quick mental inventory of the contents. “But I guess, with Professor McGonagall at least, it’s preferable to having to fight to stay together when we both know it’s what we need.” She allowed herself a brief fantasy of Snape fucking her in her old bed.

 

Snape was silent, standing at the sink while the dishes washed themselves.  _ Finally have a new wand and I’m using it to do the washing up. Who are you, Severus Snape? _ he chuckled quietly.

 

“Care to share the joke?” Hermione asked, hopping up onto the counter beside the sink, her lightly tanned legs swinging beside him.

 

Snape looked over at her, her summer-golden skin and hair and eyes. He smiled, abandoning the sink to come between her parted thighs, bracing his hands on the countertop either side of her, leaning in close. “Minerva was right,” he admitted. “I’ve become very domesticated. Making breakfast. Cleaning up. I’m about 90% sure I only know how to wash up like this from hearing Molly at Grimmauld Place.”

 

“I guess you wouldn’t have much cause to cook and  clean up after yourself at Hogwarts, but what about during the summers?”

 

He shrugged. “Takeaways, paper plates. Restaurants.”

 

“And Order meetings,” Hermione smiled, “with Mrs Weasley’s delicious dinners.”

 

“Ah, I do admit to accepting a portion every now and then,” he smiled down at her.

 

Hermione curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. Their lips touched lightly, briefly - perhaps their very first tender kiss - and then Luna could be heard coming down the stairs, and Hermione let her hands fall as Snape moved back to the sink.

 

“I helped Madam Pomfrey get her things packed up,” Luna announced, resuming her seat at the table and sipping at the drink she’d left. “I’ll pop round about ten tomorrow? Then once we’re done at Hogwarts I’ll go to St Mungo’s.”

 

“You’re not getting very much rest and relaxation this summer, Miss Lovegood,” Snape chided gently.

 

“That’s all right,” Luna smiled. “There will be time to rest later. Now I just want to help as much as I can.”

 

“Luna has been organizing the volunteers at St Mungo’s,” Hermione told Snape. “I think I frustrated her very much when I kept throwing off the schedule by staying with you.”

 

Luna laughed. “Hermione...I wasn’t frustrated. I could see the bond between you two.” She paused. “I think you’d both feel better if you stopped fighting it, though.” Luna rose from her chair. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said politely, and Flooed back home from the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Monday for me - fingers crossed it’s a slow week with lots of writing time!!!


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

“Before you ask - no, I didn’t tell Luna anything about what we’ve been talking about. She just...knows.”

 

Snape nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m both familiar with Miss Lovegood’s extraordinary perception, and completely confident in your discretion. She once told me…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Oh, I don’t remember,” he lied. “Something about love hiding behind walls.”

 

Hermione chose not to press him. “We should get your things packed up for tomorrow,” she said instead, “and then I’m going to have a bath.”

 

“Don’t you need to pack, too?”

 

Hermione laughed. “I never unpacked. I’ve been living out of the same bag for a year and a half. I’m kind of used to it now.”

 

“Ahhhh.” Snape came over to where she still sat on the counter, slipped his arms around her, and lifted her up. “Come along then, baby, you can watch me pack, and then I’ll run your bath.”

 

“I’m perfectly capable-“ 

 

“-of literally anything you set your mind to. Yes, I’m well aware.” Snape made for the stairs, Hermione cradled in his arms. “Let me take care of you for a change,” he said softly.

 

Hermione snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

 

Snape looked confused. “I’m very serious. Why would I be joking?”

 

“You take care of me  _ all the time _ ,” Hermione insisted. “You make breakfast, you do the washing up, you’ve run the laundry at least twice. You protect me when I’m afraid, you-“ Hermione lowered her voice, in case Poppy was awake “-make me come about a dozen times a day. All you do is take care of me!”

 

“Only a dozen? I’ll need to work on that,” Snape said, but he seemed distracted. He closed the door and set her down on what was, to him, their bed. “Do you really feel that way?”

 

“Of course I do,” replied Hermione, perplexed. “How do  _ you _ see things?”

 

“I don’t know,” Snape replied slowly. “I just feel as though since you saved me, you’ve been doing all the work. You look after Poppy and me, you make lunch, you take care of the house and the garden...and all I do is read, and lie around, and…deny you what you want.”

 

“I’ve had some surreal conversations in my life, Severus Snape, but this is getting weird. You’ve been resting and reading because you’re healing from what was very nearly a fatal injury. That you’re alive is a wonder; that you’re walking and talking and eating and very-nearly-fucking is a miracle.”

 

“All thanks to you.”

 

“No,” Hermione said quietly. “I’m not going to let you put me on a pedestal for what I did.”

 

“Do you regret it?”

 

“No.” She hesitated. “And yes.” Snape frowned. “I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Hermione admitted, then took a deep breath, “but I feel very, very guilty about the blood bond.”

 

“Why?” Snape’s voice was quiet.

 

“Because you had just escaped from V-Voldemort and Dumbledore. You could have been free. Instead you’re tied to me, which you’d never have agreed to.”

 

“I’d be  _ dead _ , Hermione.”

 

“But what if I’d summoned the anti venom and a blood replenishing potion, instead of just opening a vein like I did?” She sighed. “I just panicked. I stunned Charlie and Ernie when they tried to stop me. I transfigured some rope into an IV and just...went for it.”

 

“You saved my life. I didn’t know you were struggling so much with this, baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to think I regretted it. I don’t. I look at you and I can’t bear the thought of you not being here. I’ve never felt the way I feel in your arms. I’ve never felt so loved and cherished. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want you.” Hermione tried to slow the flood of words pouring from her mouth, but couldn’t. “I was always so in awe of you. You were so brilliant and so mysterious and so sexy...but so cruel. And now... You’re sweet and kind and loving; you’ve given me the best of you, every moment. You bring me to my knees, but won’t let me… worship there.” She hid her face in her hands. “Oh, god, Hermione,  _ shut up _ .”

 

“No,” Snape said, and his voice sounded strangled. “Never shut up, when the alternative is letting me in on what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.”

 

“Speaking of surreal,” Hermione teased weakly. “What have you done with the real Severus Snape?”

 

“I hope never to see him or hear from him again,” Snape admitted quietly, and Hermione lowered her hands to look at him. “I’m serious, Hermione. When I think of how I behaved, for over twenty  _ years _ ...when I remember things I said - actual, awful words that came out of my mouth - and I  _ meant _ them. I  _ enjoyed _ it. Goading poor Harry, tormenting Neville Longbottom - who’ve both been through so much that they have every right to be the kind of asshole I was, but are far too decent and kind and good - teasing  _ you _ over things you couldn’t control - and Hermione, that’s only  _ recent _ .  _ Twenty years _ . I can hardly believe it. I hate that person, I would rather die than be him again.”

 

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and they held each other quietly, both feeling raw and vulnerable.

 

“Hermione?” Snape whispered, his voice almost muffled in her hair.

 

“Yes, Sir?”

 

He took a deep breath. “Will you tell me? If I start behaving that way again. If I say anything cruel. Will you help keep me in check? I’m afraid, baby. I’m afraid I’ll turn into him again. What if it’s your blood, your magic making me happy? What if I’m still the same monster inside?”

 

“You’re not.” Hermione took a deep breath. She had hoped not to have to tell him, to keep this one memory for her and her alone. But she needed him to believe her. “I do promise. But I know you’ve changed for real. And I can prove it. I want to show you a memory,” she said quietly. “It’s horrible - I mean...gruesome. But also wonderful. Will you watch it?”

 

“You want me to use Legilimency on you?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione replied.

 

He nodded, reaching for his wand. “Try to, sort of,  _ push _ the memory at me. I won’t look at anything else, if you focus on that one thing.”

 

Hermione nodded, curling herself into him more tightly.

  
“ _ Legilimens _ ,” he whispered, and she felt him inside her mind.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Hermione focused with all her will on the memory she wanted him to see.

 

_ The Shrieking Shack _

 

_ When Hermione stumbled into the Shrieking Shack with Charlie Weasley and Ernie MacMillan in tow, she was so tired she could hardly breathe. There was blood everywhere, and the smell of it made her sick. It was dark; while all three of their wands were lit, the pools of light they cast were only serving to make the darkness thicker. She was too tired to make one of her little fireballs; too traumatized and too clearly remembering the Fiendfyre from that afternoon. Had it all been today? She couldn’t remember. She tried to follow the river of blood on the floor; at last there was a shadow somewhat darker than the rest, and she had found him. His face was whiter than she’d ever seen; his eyes were closed. When she touched his cheek, intending to whisper her thanks for the sacrifices he’d made, his eyes had opened. She had screamed in horror, making both Ernie and Charlie shout in alarm and run towards her, but then the eyes staring at her had widened, as though he were seeing something completely apart from her. His face filled with an unearthly peace, and he smiled. Severus Snape was smiling at her, seemingly not dead. Hermione immediately started assessing his injuries; triage in the dark was not new to her. As far as she could tell it was only the snake bite and loss of blood, and she immediately grabbed a piece of rope, severing a piece a few feet long and turning it into a clear plastic tube. Both Ernie and Charlie had tried to intervene at this time, but she had barely spared them a glance; a nonverbal  petrificus totalus was cast on each and then she went back to work, while Severus Snape’s eyes followed her every move. She inserted the makeshift IV into his vein (he didn’t seem to notice), used her wand to open up her own vein (it hurt a lot more than she expected) and stuck the tube in, barely sparing a thought for blood types, magical or otherwise. He needed the antivenom and the blood, that was all that mattered. She sat beside him until she passed out, and came to at St Mungo’s, with a furious Minerva McGonagall at her side, and a steady stream of blood-replenishing potions being poured into her. _


	31. Chapter Thirty One

“Oh, Hermione,” Snape sighed, pulling her more tightly against his chest. They were both breathing shallowly, and both had to shake off the weariness the memory left behind.

 

“Did you see your face?” Hermione said quietly. “That was you, this you.”

 

“I don’t make that face, Hermione!” he protested, laughing.

 

“No?” Hermione asked softly. “You don’t think so?”

 

“Of course not,” he laughed.

 

“Every day, Severus,” Hermione said quietly. “You look at me like that every day.”

 

Snape stared at her. “Are you sure?”

 

She nodded. “That’s what everyone is commenting on. That’s what they see. And they think it’s the blood bond, but…”

 

“But it started before you did the transfusion.”

 

Hermione nodded nervously.

 

“Well, that’s…” Snape struggled “...I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted.

 

“Me either. But I wanted you to see. So you know that this good in you...it’s not me. It’s you.” Hermione smiled cheekily. “Well, maybe a little me.”

 

Snape smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t deserve any of this. Not the second chance. Not the kindness everyone is showing. And most especially not you.”

 

“We don’t always get what we deserve, Professor. For good or bad.”

 

“That’s true,” Snape admitted. He paused, his eyes on her face. “There’s something else I want to talk about. Well, two things.”

 

Hermione looked up at him apprehensively. “My meltdown at St Mungo’s?”

 

“You didn’t have a meltdown. You had a panic attack, and a perfectly justifiable one. I’m not going to  _ make _ you talk to me or anyone else about it, but clearly just because the nightmares have stopped, doesn’t mean you don’t have unresolved trauma to deal with. And I would feel better knowing you weren’t just sweeping it under the rug. I think you would feel better, too.”

 

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. “There are a lot of people who went through worse,” she said, “including you.”

 

“It’s not a competition, baby, where only the worst wins. You suffered trauma. You are entitled to treatment. I won’t make you go, but if you want to go I will take you.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Thank you, Severus,” she whispered.

 

“That is the third thing,” Snape smiled. “I know I initially forbade you to call me that. It’s been slipping out for a few days now and I don’t know if it’s just that you turn me on constantly, anyway, or what, but it’s just...  _ sweet _ to hear you say it now. You say it with such… reverence. So as pointless as forbidding was, I’d like to rescind that. You may call me whatever you wish - until term starts in September, and then it must be Professor in public as always.” Hermione nodded in relief.

 

“The second thing…” Snape said slowly “...is more personal.” Hermione raised an eyebrow - this had all been pretty personal. “Do you remember last night, here on the bed, when we were...well, making love, I suppose?”

 

“Of course,” Hermione smiled. “You do such delicious things with your wicked fingers.”

 

“You put your hands under my shirt,” Snape said quietly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said quickly, “I couldn’t help it. I long to touch you.”

 

“I know. I’m not upset. It’s just...I have a lot of scars.”

 

Hermione nodded. 

 

“Have you...seen them? At St Mungo’s, perhaps?”

 

“No. I left the room anytime you were being changed or repositioned.”

 

“But you didn’t seem to react, last night, with as much surprise as I would expect.”

 

Hermione shrugged. “It would have been rude. I was touching you because I wanted to - _ want _ to - so desperately. Your skin, your scars...they’re all part of you. And I want it all.”  _ Forever, _ she added silently.

 

“Have I mentioned I don’t deserve you?” Snape smiled. “I was thinking that I’d rather you see them… all of them… while we’re not… in bed. Obviously it is unrealistic to remain covered up at all times to spare you the sight, even if that is honestly what I’d prefer.”

 

“Why?” Hermione asked softly. 

 

“Those parts of my life are over now. There’s no need for… pity.” He met her eyes, and she nodded.

 

“Off with your shirt, then, Severus,” she encouraged, bravely, and he leaned down to kiss her neck with a soft growl. She purred softly in response and slid from his lap onto her knees on the bed. He turned his back to her, took a deep breath, and pulled his shirt up and off over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longish chapter with lots to unpack - luckily y’all have an extra day to digest before the smut starts on Tuesday.
> 
> Also, this chapter is for Scaleybark, who I hope won’t be too sad she was wrong ;)


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Geeklovefan? You might want to wait ‘til break.

Hermione reached out and ran her hand slowly down Snape’s spine, feeling the ridges and valleys of his scars. Some were small; others stretched the length or breadth of his back, as though at one point or another his whole back had been torn open. Hermione bit her lip, touching him gently, and let her hands wander until the whole of his back had borne her loving touch. Tentatively she swept her hands under his arms, inching closer to him until her fingers slid across the flat planes of his belly, and then up, across his chest. They were both breathing shallowly; her chest was pressed against his back as her hands explored his skin, delighting in every touch.

 

With a groan, Snape turned in her arms, dragging her back to him. She came willingly, her chin already lifting to catch his kiss with her lips, and their mouths met, open and wet and greedy. Hermione continued to stroke her hands over his chest, glorying in the feel of his skin against her palms. Snape grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it off, then reached for the clasp of her bra. (“All right?” he whispered into her mouth. “ _ Yesss _ !” she gasped.) They shuddered together as their skin was pressed together for the first time; Hermione, on her knees, used the leverage to push him back onto the bed, staying on top of him, one leg sliding to either side of his as she pressed her core against him.

 

“Severus,” she gasped into his mouth, and he moaned, his arms wrapping around her hips to hold her closer to him, grinding his cock up into her through their clothes. He reached blindly to the side, his fingers closing on one of their wands; with an impatient flick he removed her shorts and knickers and his jeans, so that only his boxers remained between her wet heat and his aching cock. She shuddered, grinding down more firmly against him, soaking the fabric separating them. (“Do you trust me?” he murmured into her mouth. “Forever,” she moaned back.)

 

With a growl he flipped them over so that she was beneath him on the bed, nestling between her hips, one strong hand taking both of her wrists and pinning them to the mattress above her head. He slid down her body and took a nipple into his mouth; he began by sucking gently, then harder; finally he tugged with his teeth and this produced the reaction he was looking for: her back arched, her hips searching for his. He chewed on her nipple, then moved to the other and did the same, holding his hips up away from hers, bracing himself on his left arm while his right hand continued to hold her hands above her head. She was thrashing beneath him, he felt her arousal like a fluttering beside his own. He could smell her and longed to bury his mouth in her. Knowing that it was only his own willpower keeping him from plunging his cock inside her made him question his own sanity.

 

“Severus,” she gasped. “Severus, please!”

 

He released her nipple from his mouth and moved back up her body, looking down at her. Her face was flushed; her ponytail had come loose and her hair was wild. Her eyes were bright; her lips parted and wet.

 

“Yes, baby,” he purred, and she moaned. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, and she whimpered.

 

“I want...I need... _ you _ , Severus. I need  _ you _ .”

 

He shuddered and pressed his hips to hers, giving them both the friction of his cock pressed against her pussy. She cried out, as their hips found a rhythm and she ground up against him as he thrust down against her.

  
They were both panting, but he had to kiss her again, and when he leaned down to her, Hermione raised her head, her teeth sinking into his lower lip with a ferocity that almost broke him.  She was his equal in so many ways, he realized, and she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he gasped into her mouth, “ _ oh, fuck, baby _ ,” he moaned, his thrusting against her pelvis becoming erratic as he lost control, rutting against her helplessly, and he heard her shriek as her climax hit, her body thrashing against his, and he gave in, succumbing to his own pleasure before collapsing on top of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...to be continued...


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there seems to be quite the divide between those who hate Snape’s use of “baby” as an endearment, and those who like it. While I agree that it’s OOC for canon Snape, I would argue that it’s not OOC for this Snape - and hardly the thing that makes him least like canon Snape. In any case i am sticking to my guns - or rather, his.  
> I do appreciate the thoughtful and respectful expression of opinions on both sides and especially appreciate you each taking the time not only to read my story but to comment, I really enjoy reading each and every one.  
> And now, my friends, the filthy smut train is ready for its next stop...are you?

When she could move again, Hermione made to get off the bed, but Snape stopped her. “ _ I’m _ running the bath,” he reminded her.

 

“You could get in it with me,” Hermione invited, and he grinned, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

 

“That won’t be very restful for you,” he objected, and she laughed.

 

“I don’t know, I feel  _ very _ relaxed right now,” she purred, stretching beneath him, so that her back arched and pressed her breasts up against his bare chest.

 

“You’re insatiable,” Snape smiled.

 

“You’ve made me that way,” Hermione teased.

 

“Yes, well, now I’m going to make you clean and relaxed,” he said, getting up off the bed and scooping her up into his arms, carrying her into the ensuite and setting her down beside the bathtub. He started the water running, observing the flow critically for a moment before a quick flick of his wand had the water flowing both faster and hotter than before, with thick, glossy pink bubbles that smelled of strawberries. He nodded his approval, holding out his hand to steady her as she stepped into the hot water and sank down, until only her face was visible above the bubbles.

 

“Severus?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What do I have to do to convince you to get in here with me?”

 

“Hmmmm.” He pretended to think about it as he halted the flow of water, gathered some towels for her, and backed towards the door. “Relax in here for a while first. I’m going to pack. Maybe I’ll get in after a bit.”

 

“You won’t,” Hermione muttered, “you’ll say it’s too late.”

 

“Enjoy your bath, Hermione,” Snape said, and closed the door after casting stasis charms on both the water and air temperatures.

 

Half an hour later, Snape tapped at the bathroom door, and then stuck his head in. “How’s the bath?”

 

Hermione smiled. “Lonely.”

 

“May I join you, then?”

 

Hermione sat up with a splash. “Do you mean it?!”

 

He nodded, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. He’d put his clothes back on, and now he sat on the closed toilet seat to take off his socks. Hermione watched with avid interest as he peeled off jeans and t-shirt, then paused, watching her. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, hesitating. Hermione swallowed and looked up to meet his eyes. “We haven’t really been naked together yet,” she whispered, and he nodded. She kept her eyes locked to his as he pushed his boxers down off his hips and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them. As he took a step towards the bathtub, Hermione slid forward so that he could step in behind her. She couldn’t stop herself from taking a brief look at his long, lean body, before he stepped into the tub and then sat down behind her, his arms coming around to drag her back against his chest.

 

“All right?” he murmured into her hair, and she nodded. Hermione rested her head against his chest, her hands on his arms as they encircled her waist, her breasts bobbing pleasantly in the water. They each squirmed a bit until they were comfortable, and then sat quietly, soaking in the soft bubbles and enjoying each other’s company.

 

After some time, Snape nuzzled against Hermione’s ear, his right arm moving as he let his fingers glide down her stomach. Her hand atop his, he slid his fingers down between her thighs, stroking her gently. She twitched against him, her thighs parting slightly, welcoming his questing fingers. She was always ready for him, and yet each time he touched her he marveled at how responsive she was. He’d never get tired of it.

 

“Do you think about the future, Hermione?  _ Our _ future?” Suddenly feeling that the question was too presumptuous, he quickly added “a few months from now?” His fingers continued to languidly stroke her pussy.

 

“All the time,” she replied dreamily. “Specifically, the moment after we get my N.E.W.T. results, when I’m officially no longer your student.”

 

“You know you’ll get an owl at breakfast, right? I’m not sure Minerva would be indulgent enough to let me fuck you in the Great Hall.”

 

Hermione chuckled, but her hips had jerked against him. “Every time you say that word it makes me long for it even more,” she said softly. “I ache for you inside me.”

  
Snape grinned, then scraped his teeth along her neck. “Yes? Right here?” He pushed his long index finger inside of her, and she moaned. “You think you can take it?” he teased hoarsely, easing a second finger alongside the first, and she whimpered. “You think when I finally get to  _ fuck _ you,” he growled, and her hips bucked, “that I will be  _ gentle _ ?” (“No,” she gasped, her nails digging into his skin.) “You think I won’t take you  _ properly _ ?” he hissed, sliding a third finger inside her. (“Severus!” she whimpered.) She was terribly still now, stretched around him, and he could feel her slippery juices coating him despite the bath. Her inner walls were tightening around his fingers, then relaxing, over and over, and he knew she was about to shatter. He considered his words carefully. “I’m going to  _ take  _ you,” he growled against her skin, “I’m going to  _ fuck  _ you.” He pulled his fingers out and then slammed them back in, his palm crashing against her clit, and she cried out. “I’m going to  _ claim _ you,” he promised, and she screamed as she came, bucking helplessly against his fingers, clinging to him as he buried his face in her neck.


	34. Thirty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut train continues to steam along...

After a few moments Hermione turned in his arms, and there was a fire burning in her eyes. She dragged his face down to hers and kissed him, pulling his lower lip into her mouth and sucking at it, over and over, quite as though it were something else she was sucking, and he was distracted enough that she was able to wrap her fingers around the throbbing shaft of his cock before he could stop her. Her other hand was tangled into his hair, holding him to her kiss, drowning any protest he might have made, but her hand on him felt like heaven and he couldn’t object. He wrapped his arms around her, giving in to her kiss and the pleasure of her touch. He ached to be inside her, to stake his body’s claim on hers, to fill her with his cock and his come and his love. He shuddered against her, his cock growing impossibly harder as she stroked him from root to tip, exploring with her fingers. She cupped his balls and he moaned softly into her mouth.

 

Finally she tore her lips from his. The hand in his hair slipped away and she grabbed his wand from the counter. “ _ Evanesco _ ,” and the water and bubbles were gone. Blindly she set the wand back down, her gaze never wavering as both of them stared at her fingers wrapped around his shaft. Fingers and thumb not quite meeting, she slid up and down, tentatively stroking across the spongy head, and he groaned. “Severus,” she whimpered, and he growled, gently removing her hands from him, against her protests, and scooping her up into his arms, he stepped out of the bathtub and back into the bedroom, depositing Hermione, damp and determined, onto the bed. She immediately dropped down off of the bed to the floor, her hands on his hips holding him still as she knelt in front of him. With one hand she reached for his cock again, and then with no hesitation she had wrapped her lips around him.

 

Snape cried out hoarsely, all of his effort put to not bucking forward into her mouth as she sucked. No woman had ever taken him into her mouth, and just watching her lips stretched around his aching flesh was going to make him come if he wasn’t careful. “Hermione- -“ he tried, but she ignored him, one hand on the curve of his hip, the other gently stroking his shaft as her lips and tongue explored and sucked on the head. “Baby, I can’t -“ he broke off as he felt his balls tightening, the inevitability of his release making his hands clutch at her hair, holding her still. “Hermione,” he warned, and she looked up at him, her eyes shining golden in the dim light, and he gasped “ _ fuckkkk” _ as he came. At first she kept up, swallowing quickly, but he was still shooting into her mouth and she let him go with a gasp, and the last of his load fell across her breasts. She moaned, and he collapsed backward onto the bed. She scrambled up beside him, his come all over her chin and chest, lying down on her back on the bed with one hand between her thighs, rubbing frantically at her clit. He watched her through half-closed eyes, watched her get close and then plateau with a whine of frustration, and then reached over, pushing two fingers straight inside her and moaning softly as she clenched around him, shuddering through her own release.

 

At last they both lay still, bodies cooling in the aftermath.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all still have some cold water left...

Hermione and Snape dozed for a while, and Hermione woke first, shivering. She went into the bathroom and cleaned herself off, picking up Snape’s discarded t-shirt from the floor and putting it on. She brushed her teeth and went back into the bedroom. Snape was snoring quietly, lying on his back, and she knew she had to wake him to get him properly into the bed.

 

Leaning over him, she cupped his face in her hand, stroking her thumb down his cheek. How had his face become so dear to her already, she wondered. His skin had lost the sallow cast it had worn for years, replaced with a healthy, almost tanned colouring that suited him. His cheeks were less hollow; he smiled so much and so often that his face seemed transformed. And when he looked at her, it was as though the sun was shining right on her. Hermione sighed softly, and let her hand wander down his neck, brushing the still-red and raw scars of Nagini’s attack. The wounds might never disappear, she knew, but at least he was not in pain. She brushed her hand down his chest, tracing the ridges and valleys of scars. It made her heart ache to see how much damage had been done to him - especially knowing that it was only the visible portion. She longed to take all of the scars away, to let his skin reflect the new person he was on the inside.

 

A glance at his face told her he was still sleeping, so Hermione tentatively continued down his body, across his belly and through the dark curls leading to his cock. He was soft, but still larger than she had expected. Her mouth ached a little from stretching around him, and she imagined him filling up her pussy, imagined the soreness after he took her. She shivered, her fingers gently tracing along the silky skin. He twitched as she explored, and she got to feel him stiffen under her fingertips. His eyes were still closed, and she imagined climbing up on top of him and impaling herself on him. She shuddered, her fingers now measuring the length and girth of his hardness, and knew it would be some time before she was confident enough to take him that way. She wrapped her fingers lightly around him, stroking almost tenderly.

 

After some time she looked up again and saw that he was awake and watching her. Feeling suddenly uncertain, she laid her hand flat on his thigh. “Is this all right, Sir? Touching you when you’re sleeping?”

 

“You don’t have to stop,” he said quietly. “You seemed to be concentrating very hard.”

 

“Just...learning. Sort of...up close and personal.” She blushed.

 

“Having had the... pleasure... of being ‘up close and personal’ with the relevant portions of  _ your _ anatomy, I understand the fascination,” Snape smiled.

 

Hermione blushed harder, but went back to stroking him gently. She ran her fingers around the tip, back down the shaft, and circled the base. “What feels good?” she asked, shyly, and he snorted.

 

“Everything,” he drawled. He watched her for a few moments, then noticed his t-shirt. “What are you wearing?”

 

She looked down, then back up at him. “This old thing?” She smirked. “If it’s bothering you…” she released his cock and pulled the shirt off over her head, then crawled up his body, trapping his hard cock between them and settling down so that it nestled between the wet lips of her pussy. She whimpered, but placed one hand to either side of his head and leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “Do you want to know what I was thinking, before you woke up, Severus?”

 

“Always,” he replied breathlessly, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him as he fought the instinct to press up against her.

 

“I was imagining being on top of you, like this,” she said, rolling her hips so that her pussy slid the length of his cock, and then sliding backward again. He moaned, and she shuddered. “Only I was imagining it a little differently,” she continued, repeating the motion and watching the beads of sweat gathering at his forehead. “You see,” she continued, moving torturously slowly, grinding her clit down against him with every stroke, “I was imagining impaling myself on your cock,” she breathed against his lips.

 

His hips bucked up into her so hard that she would have flown off of him if he hadn’t grabbed her hips at the same moment, his fingers nearly bruising her skin as he clutched at her, grinding up into her. He roared, rolling them over so that she was beneath him, thrusting shallowly between her pussy lips, the head of his cock bumping her clit, his balls smacking against her ass. It was so near to what he craved that he wanted to cry, but he never wanted it to end. He’d already come twice tonight, and was sure that was it for him, but as he continued to pound her down into the bed he felt his balls tighten. He moaned, forcing his eyes open to watch her. She had both hands on the bed, pushing her hips up to meet his every thrust. Her hair was tangled and wild, her eyes bright and locked on the place where she could see the head of his cock emerging between her pussy lips. She was biting her bottom lip in a way that made him wish it was his.

 

Snape let his eyes wander down her body to look where she was looking, and almost lost control. Her pussy was so wet that her juices were coating his cock as he thrust against her, her swollen lips clinging to him. It was the first time there hadn’t been fabric between them. She was panting, and he was so close to losing control that he was sure he would pass out. He wanted more than anything to plunge inside her, to take her and claim her forever, but the knowledge both that neither of them were ready for such a commitment, and that he would hurt her if he just slammed into her now, were enough to stay him.

 

“Hermione. Baby. Look at me,” he commanded softly, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “I wish you could see yourself now, baby, you are so beautiful and wild. I want you to come, baby, come all over my cock.” She shuddered, and he felt her begin to spasm against him. “Yessss, that’s it, that’s my good girl,” he growled, and she shrieked, hips bucking against him. With a roar he came again, collapsing down on top of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’m late by the way...damn work.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are on Monday again, now with no smut in sight...but perhaps some squish. Hope y’all have a great week! I’m off to Ottawa for a short trip tomorrow (are we friends on Instagram?!)

The next morning when Hermione woke, she was wearing Snape’s t-shirt again, and what seemed to be a clean pair of her own knickers. Her wand was on the bedside table, and Snape’s arm was wrapped around her as she lay beside him under the covers. She woke slowly, memories of the night before swirling in her mind. It occurred to her that perhaps she ought to be embarrassed at how often and how desperately she wanted to make love with him, but she dismissed the thought as she remembered the delight in his eyes each time she responded to his touches with enthusiasm. She wanted him all the time; why shouldn’t he know it? He had had precious little love in his life, she knew; why shouldn’t she pour hers into him?

 

It was a few moments before her thoughts caught up with her.  _ Love _ , she thought, her heart thudding.  _ I love him. Shit. _

 

At that moment her wand vibrated; Poppy was awake. Hermione eased out from under Snape’s arm, brushing her lips across his forehead before heading out of the room to see to Poppy’s needs.

 

A couple of hours later, they were all ready to go. Hermione had emptied the fridge, and she and Snape had worked together, cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen, and changing the sheets on the beds. Hermione stood in the doorway of her parents’ room, and sighed, heading down the stairs to the sitting room without sparing a glance for her own room. This wasn’t home anymore.  _ Home is Hogwarts, _ she thought, but a moment later the whispering thought came,  _ home is where Severus is _ . The thought made her smile, and she was still smiling as she came into the sitting room. He looked at her quizzically, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding her face up for a kiss. He bent to oblige, a soft and gentle kiss, and she beamed as she rested her head against his chest.

 

Poppy cleared her throat, and Hermione looked over to where the Healer sat in her customary wingback chair. “We’re going home,” Hermione said simply, and Poppy’s face slowly broke into a smile of her own.

 

A moment later Luna stepped from the fireplace, wishing everyone good morning. Hermione reluctantly left Snape’s embrace to double check that the back doors were locked and all the main floor windows closed. Luna stepped back into the fireplace with Madam Pomfrey’s luggage, promising to wait at the other end for her. Poppy went next. Hermione handed Snape her beaded bag. “See you soon,” she promised, kissing him before he too stepped into the fireplace.

 

“The apparition point at the Hogsmeade gates at eleven thirty,” Snape repeated, kissing her one last time.

 

Once he’d gone, Hermione put out the fire, took down all of the wards on the house, and reinstated them, walking on quiet feet around the whole house, magically locking it from anyone except herself.

 

When she’d finished she took a long last look at the house where she’d grown up, spun on the spot, and Apparated away, landing moments later in front of a different gate; the house very familiar, and just as dear.

 

“ _ Expecto patronum _ ”, she murmured, realizing, as her gambolling otter appeared, that the memory for which she now reached was likely to bring a blush to her cheeks. “ _ It’s Hermione, _ ” she said pleasantly. “ _ May I come in? _ ”

 

Moments later Mrs Weasley appeared at the kitchen door. “Come in, dear, come in!”

 

Hermione opened the gate and approached the porch, where Mrs Weasley already had her arms outstretched to embrace her. “Come in, have a cup of tea,” she said, bustling through the door.

 

A few minutes later they were sat at the table over cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. “It’s so strange for the Burrow to be so quiet,” Hermione said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here just the two of us before.”

 

Mrs Weasley looked up at the mantel, where her magical clock sat, and Hermione’s gaze followed. Mr Weasley, Percy, George, and Ron were at “work”. Charlie as usual was on the border between “work” and “mortal peril” - that had never failed to tickle Hermione. Ginny, Bill, Fleur, and - was that Harry? - were at “home”, though not this one. Hermione swallowed - Fred was “lost”. 

 

“Is that Harry?” she asked softly, and Mrs Weasley, pleased to have her thoughts diverted, nodded. 

 

“He was there when we came home that...that morning,” she said.

 

Hermione nodded and sipped her tea. “I came to say thank you,” she said, “for all the meals you cooked for us. We’re moving back to Hogwarts today - Madam Pomfrey and Severus are there now, actually, and I’ll be heading there from here. Severus and I are going to help with the rebuilding.”

 

“Luna stopped by last night,” Mrs Weasley said. She tilted her head slightly to the side, studying Hermione. “So it’s ‘Severus’ now, is it?”

 

Hermione blushed, but nodded.

 

Mrs Weasley raised an eyebrow. “Do you need a contraceptive potion, dear?”

 

Hermione squirmed. “No, thank you, Mrs Weasley. He’s still my teacher, until I take my Potions N.E.W.T.”

 

“He’s changed a lot,” Mrs Weasley said. “I’ve never seen him so relaxed. He seems… happy.”

 

“I hope he is,” Hermione said softly.

 

“I rather thought you and Ron…”

 

“Well, so did we,” Hermione admitted. “But it just wasn’t meant to be, I don’t think. We talked about it and agreed to stay friends.”

 

“Yes, Ron told me. And after seeing you and Severus together, it’s obviously for the best that you’re not with Ron. Everyone would end up getting hurt.”

 

“Not hurting Ron was very important to me.”

 

Mrs Weasley smiled. “I think he expected me to be angry that he’s not going back to Hogwarts,” she murmured conspiratorially.

 

“But you’re not?”

 

Mrs Weasley shrugged. “He was never a scholar. I just want him to be happy. I want you all to be happy.”

 

“We want you to be happy too, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione said, and Molly smiled sadly.

 

“You’d better be off to Hogwarts, dear,” she said gently, catching Hermione up in another motherly hug. “Severus will be waiting for you.”

 

“Thank you for everything, Mrs Weasley.”

 

“You’re welcome, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it was deliberate that the first mention of contraception should come from the mother of seven. Hehe.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoaaa, sorry, y’all. Took a bit more of a break than I was planning on. Would you believe this is the chapter I had the hardest time writing? Smut and squish are easy. Plot is hard. I don’t feel like I have a handle on the voices, the castle...anything. But we’ll just plough on anyway, shall we? I can't promise daily updates this time, but I do promise it won't be two whole months before the next one.

When Hermione arrived at the Hogwarts Apparition point, she was about fifteen minutes early. The sun was shining, and the grass seemed very green. She took a deep breath of the familiar-smelling air. She’d landed facing Hogsmeade, and she surveyed the town, her back to the castle. She wasn’t prepared to see it yet; she wanted Severus with her.

 

Hogsmeade looked much the same as it always had, if a little brighter in the summer sun. Zonko’s sign had been replaced with a newer, more colourful one; the Three Broomsticks’ windows were sparkling.

 

Hermione reflexively checked her watch again; barely a minute had passed. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot.  _ I’ve only been away from him for an hour _ , she scolded herself.  _ How am I going to get through a day of classes, if an hour has me jumpy and uncomfortable _ ? She made an effort to stand still, straightening her back, but a moment later she felt him approaching. Without bothering to question how she knew it was him, Hermione spun and threw herself into his arms. 

 

Snape caught her and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He had felt her absence like a physical ache; the jarring damage to the castle hadn’t helped. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in, as she clung to him, her own face buried in his chest. 

 

“I missed you,” Hermione admitted into his chest.

 

“I missed you, too. A ridiculous amount for such a short time.”

 

“Is it bad?” Hermione asked quietly, and felt him sigh.

 

“It’s… well, yes. They’re sort of repairing from one side to the other, so there’s a lot of… rubble. I’m told it’s better now that all of the… blood... has been cleaned up.” Snape shivered and held her closer.

 

‘I’m sorry I made you do it on your own.”

 

“You didn’t, Hermione. We talked about this. I needed to see the damage.”

 

Hermione drew a deep breath and straightened, looking over Severus’ shoulder at the castle that had been her home for over seven years. There were signs of the battle everywhere; scars on the towers, huge swathes of shingles missing from the roofs. She could see broken windows and missing parts of walls. With a swoop in her stomach she realized she was looking at exactly the place where Fred Weasley had died, and averted her gaze. She sighed, wanting to bury her face in Severus’ chest again, but knowing she had to be brave. She straightened, and felt Snape’s hold loosen to give her some space.

 

“Gryffindor courage?” he asked softly, and Hermione nodded. They parted and Severus reached for her hand. Slowly they approached the castle, Hermione’s eyes roaming over the grounds.  _ That’s where Tonks died, _ she thought.  _ That’s where Colin Creevey died. _ As they came up to the great front doors, Hermione saw her welcoming party: Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall stood in the entrance watching their approach. She and Snape shared a glance, but continued to hold hands, until Hermione let go to embrace her teachers, one by one.

 

“We’re glad you’re here, Miss Granger,” Professor Flitwick said quietly, and Professor Sprout nodded her agreement.

 

“You’ll certainly bring some life to the dinner table,” Professor McGonagall said with a faint smirk.

 

Hermione shot an apprehensive glance at Severus ( _ I wasn’t really thinking that I’d be alone with the staff for two months… _ ) and he smiled reassuringly, reaching for her hand again. “Thank you,” she said reflexively, smiling at her Professors. “It’s good to be back at Hogwarts. Has Madam Pomfrey settled in all right?”

 

“Yes, she’s ensconced in her old room and has several of her assistants doting on her,” Sprout said, “she’s happy as a pig in shit.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

 

“Miss Lovegood has already departed for St Mungo’s,” Professor McGonagall said as they all turned to move further into the castle, “she said she would catch up with you later. We assumed you would like some time to get reacquainted with the school before setting to work tomorrow,” she added, her eyes lingering briefly on Hermione’s and Severus’ joined hands.

 

“I wouldn’t mind a chance to wander around a bit,” Hermione admitted.

 

“Well, we keep no real structured hours in the summer. Breakfast is brought to our chambers. Lunch at one and tea at six, in the staff room. I’ve told the castle you’re to be permitted the freedoms of a staff member for the summer,” she added, watching Hermione closely. “It will make things simpler for you and make it easier to help.”

 

“Thank you, Professor!” Hermione was delighted. “I’m sure you know I won’t take advantage.” She paused. “...does that include the Restricted Section?” Snape burst out laughing and after a moment everyone joined him.

 

“No,” McGonagall laughed. “I may be formidable in my own right, but I’ve no desire to take on an irritated Irma Pince!”

 

Hermione smiled sweetly. “Nor have I, of course!” she lied demurely.

 

“Come along, my book-devouring rebel. Let’s let everyone get back to work,” Snape said, already turning towards the staircase.

 

“See you at lunch, Professors,” Hermione said politely, and allowed Severus to lead her away.


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee touch of smut...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, I lied. It’s pretty filthy.

“So tell me,” Snape murmured silkily as they rounded a corner, out of view of the other Professors. “Where in the castle have you always longed to be ravished?”

 

Hermione laughed in delight. “Besides the Potions classroom, you mean?” she asked innocently. “Spread across that big oak desk…”

 

Snape growled and Hermione laughed again. “Thank you for that mental image,” he muttered. “That should make teaching  _ really easy _ .”

 

“Really  _ hard _ , I suspect, Professor,” Hermione countered, continuing to walk up the stairs, her eyes slowly roving over the castle. The familiar walls were marred with unfamiliar marks; scratches, scorches, and rips marred both the stones and the tapestries. She stopped suddenly, her free hand reaching up to touch one portrait in particular. “Sir Cadogan?” she said quietly, but there came no response, and she sighed. She gave the frame a gentle pat, and continued up the stairs, her eyes seeking out other familiar frames.

 

Snape and Hermione continued up staircases and down hallways, Hermione’s right hand wrapped in Severus’ left; her left hand trailing across stone and wood as they walked, giving Snape the impression, somewhat whimsically, that she was communicating directly with the old castle’s walls. Presently they halted at the portrait-hole to Gryffindor Tower.

 

The Fat Lady greeted Hermione gravely, then surprised her. “What would you like the password to be, Miss Granger, Professor Snape?”

 

Hermione looked up at Snape in surprise. Snape smiled, then turned to the portrait. “Edelweiss, I think, please, Antonia,” and the Fat Lady nodded her assent before swinging open.

 

“She has a  _ name _ ?” hissed Hermione when the portrait-hole had closed behind them.

 

“Of course,” Snape laughed, but he was distracted: without another word he gathered Hermione into his arms and kissed her greedily. “Did I mention I’d missed you terribly,” he growled against her mouth, and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips. They kissed greedily, biting at each other’s lips.

 

“Yes, but tell me again,” Hermione whispered into his mouth. He tore his lips from hers and cast a glance around the common room; with a growl he perched her on the nearest sofa and flicked his wand; her jeans and knickers vanished. Hermione gasped, her eyes never leaving his face as his intent became clear; he dropped to his knees beside the couch and buried his face between her thighs. She cried out as his lips fastened around her clit and  _ sucked _ , it was almost too strong and almost too much and she plunged her fingers into his hair, nails scraping his scalp. His answering growl reverberated across her flesh and made her moan, hips bucking up to him. “I want…” she gasped, but stopped as he plunged two fingers inside her, making her cry out softly. “Yes, but…”

 

Snape looked up at her, his chin glistening with her sweet stickiness. “What do you want, Hermione?” His fingers continued to thrust steadily inside her. “Tell me,” he commanded gently.

 

“I want you in my mouth, Severus, I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.”

 

He hesitated, his gaze trailing down her body to watch as he fucked her with his fingers. “Yes?” He asked quietly. A deviously knowing light touched his eyes as he growled, “you want to suck my cock as I eat your pussy?”

 

Hermione shuddered, surprised at his filthy choice of words, and at they way they made her muscles clench around his fingers. “Yes,” she moaned. “Please.” She whimpered in protest as he began to withdraw his fingers, and in response he plunged them back into her, harder, before pulling away.

 

“Come down here, then, baby,” he smiled, lying down on the rug beside the sofa. Hermione scrambled off of the couch, kneeling between his slightly-spread legs and eagerly stroking him through his jeans. He growled softly, but let her continue, his eyes closing in heady pleasure as she slid the zipper down and her fingers found their way into his boxers. He would never tire of the reverence and innocence of her touch, even as her confidence grew every day.

 

Annoyed with the restrictive tightness of his jeans, Hermione’s other hand closed around her wand and with a flick, Snape was suddenly naked. She purred softly, bending her head to wrap her lips around the swollen head of his cock.

 

“Fuck, Hermione,” Snape moaned, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. “We had a deal, baby, come up here where I can reach you.”

 

Hermione raised her head and looked at him, her left hand curled gently around his aching cock. Her right hand still held her wand, and she tilted her head slightly, considering him. “No,” she said softly, and with barely a twitch of her wand, rope flew from its tip and wrapped around his wrists. He protested with a whine, deep in his throat, that ended abruptly when her mouth once more engulfed him. He gasped, the heat of her mouth surrounding him, his hips trying to buck up of their own accord.

 

“Hermione… oh, fuck… come up here so I can… ohhhh.” She ignored his pleas, dropping her wand and using both hands to touch and stroke him, her mouth moving greedily over his cock. His voice was hoarse as he moaned her name, helplessly, though she knew he would stop her if he really wanted to. The knowledge that he was letting her be in control made her already-wet pussy clench. “Oh, baby. I so cannot wait to fuck you.” Hermione moaned around his cock, one hand sliding down her own body to rub greedily at her pussy. At the vibration of her moans he groaned. “Are you touching yourself, baby? You could come up here. Come up here where I can reach and let me help you, let me make you come.” Hermione shuddered, redoubling her efforts, and felt his whole body stiffening as his tension built. “Fuck,” he moaned, and she felt him hardening even more in her mouth; felt him rippling beneath her lips. She brushed her tongue across the sensitive spot at the underside of his cock, and then he was coming, his back arching, her name tumbling from his lips on a hoarse shout.

 

Hermione did her best to keep up, swallowing as he spilled into her mouth again and again. At last he lay gasping on the rug and she laved her tongue gently over him before releasing him, sitting back on her heels as she looked him over. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin; his stomach muscles were rippling appealingly. His eyes were open and roving greedily over her face. His hands, still bound by her  _ incarcerous _ , were stretched above his head. He licked his lips as she watched, and she squirmed.

 

“I wasn’t finished with you, baby,” he said softly. “Come here…  _ now _ .” Though his voice was gentle, the command was clear, and Hermione crawled slowly up his body, dragging her sopping wet pussy across his still-hard cock as she went. “Fuck,” he moaned, trying to free his hands, but giving up as she neared his mouth. She stopped with her pussy just inches from his lips, and he growled. “Untie my hands.”

 

Hermione nodded and reached out to pull at the rope; at her touch it melted away. Snape wasted no time grabbing her hips in his hands and yanking her down onto his mouth, plunging his tongue between her swollen pussy lips with a growl. Hermione reached back, bracing herself with her hands on his knees, as he applied himself to drawing every last ounce of pleasure from her body, making her shriek in ecstasy over, and over… and over.

 

At last Hermione collapsed on top of him, and Snape drew a deep, shuddering breath. His cock was still hard, and the yearning to plunge it deep inside of her was overwhelming. It wasn’t fucking a student, he argued with himself, she was so much more than that. She was his world.

 

Slowly the implications of his thoughts filtered through to him, and he felt his erection subsiding at last. He moved slowly, carefully, gathering a nearly-senseless Hermione into his arms and settling down on the couch, cradling her against him, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.  _ Shit. _


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

Hermione opened her eyes at the sound of a loud _c_ _rack_ , and found herself eye-to-eye with a familiar face. “Winky!” she exclaimed, and the House-Elf beamed. “How _are_ you, Winky?”

 

Winky smiled. “Winky is well, miss. Winky is helping rebuild Hogwarts!”

 

“That’s wonderful. I’m sure they’re so grateful for your help.”

 

“Winky misses Dobby,” the House-Elf admitted quietly.

 

“So do I,” Hermione said softly. “And so does Harry.”

 

“Harry Potter is a good wizard,” Winky nodded.

 

“Hello, Winky,” Snape said gently, and Winky eyed him warily.

 

“Winky just wanted to see Miss Granger, Professor Snape. Winky did not mean to disturb the Professor!”

 

Snape smiled reassuringly. “You’re not disturbing me, Winky.”

 

Winky stared uncertainly at the smiling man, sneaking a look at Hermione, who nodded. “It is really him,” she laughed, “though he IS a little different now.”

 

“I’m just an ordinary professor now, Winky, I’m not Headmaster anymore.”

 

“Winky does not think Professor Snape could be _ordinary_ anything, Sir,” Winky said softly, still eyeing him cautiously, then disappeared with a _crack_.

 

Hermione laughed. “She’s not wrong, Severus.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Says the extraordinary girl herself.”

 

They smiled at each other for a few moments.

 

“Should I be expecting any other House-Elves to be paying a visit?” Snape asked teasingly, and Hermione shrugged.

 

“I wouldn’t think so. Kreacher is staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry. Harry offered to let him come to Hogwarts and he was a bit offended. It took Ginny a good forty minutes to explain that it was out of concern for Kreacher’s happiness and not an indictment of his cooking skills.”

 

Snape snorted. “And Dobby?”

 

Hermione’s smile faded. “He died, Severus. While helping us escape from Malfoy Manor.”

 

Snape sighed. “Poor Harry,” was all he said.

 

Hermione nodded sadly. “Can we go look around the castle some more?”

 

“Of course,” Snape said, standing up from the sofa and reaching a hand down to Hermione to pull her to her feet.

 

He gestured to her to slip through the portrait-hole ahead of him, and she did, looking back to see his gaze fixed on her ass. She smirked, wiggling slightly more than necessary. “See something you like, Professor Snape?” she asked innocently.

 

“Miss Granger,” he replied in a steely tone, reminiscent enough of his old self to send a shiver down her spine, “you are a very naughty girl.”

 

“Oh, Professor Snape,” she smiled. “You have no idea.”

 

They walked the halls slowly, greeting the portraits as they passed. At Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom Snape raised an eyebrow but made no protest. “All right, Myrtle?” Hermione asked gently, and Myrtle nodded gravely.

 

Snape inclined his head to her. “Miss Warren,” he said pleasantly, and she stared at him, her gaze never wavering until they left the bathroom. Hermione pulled the door shut behind her and shrugged. “Some things change beyond recognition, and some things stay the same forever.”

 

She looked along the corridor as she spoke, and realized they’d been avoiding the place where Fred Weasley had died. She steered them there now, kneeling on the flagstones for a moment before rising and moving purposefully along the seventh-floor corridor where the door to the Room Of Requirement had always opened. The stone wall was cold to her touch. “Do you think the Room itself has been destroyed forever, Severus?” she asked quietly.

 

He placed a hand on the wall beside hers, and they were both quiet.

 

After a while, Snape sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope not.”

 

“Me too.” Hermione looked at her watch. “I think we have time for one last stop before we go to dinner,” she sighed.

 

“We don’t have to. We can wait and go tomorrow, or another day.”

 

Hermione shook her head, and they held hands during their slow walk down to the Entrance Hall. They paused outside the doors to the Great Hall, and Hermione took a deep breath. Snape pushed the doors open, and they stepped slowly through.


	40. Chapter Forty

The Great Hall, at five fifteen on a summer evening, was filled with light. The broken window-panes had not yet been replaced, and light streamed in through the gaps, shining on the faded flagstones and bouncing off the walls. This room, more than any of the others, wore its damage like an angry scar, each broken window a gash; each charred wall a bruise. Hermione stood just inside the doors and allowed the tears to fall. Snape stood beside her, holding her hand but not attempting to soothe her, just letting her pour out her grief. 

 

“I read  _ Hogwarts: A History _ before I ever got on the train,” Hermione said, so quietly that Snape had to strain to hear her. “I read and read and read and I hoped  _ so hard _ that I would just be  _ normal _ here. That maybe being magic was what had made me so different, so unlikable. Maybe here was where I’d find people like me, and fit in, and have f-friends.” She sniffed, and Snape stayed quiet. 

 

“I met Neville first, at King’s Cross. And he seemed to like me all right. Then I met Harry and Ron on the train. Somehow, after knowing each other for just an hour, they were best friends.” Hermione swiped at her tears, but as they were still falling, it was ineffective. 

 

“And I was so….so swotty. But Harry, he’s...well, he’s  _ Harry.  _ With no reason in the world to be kind to people, he’s kind anyway. And he made room for me in their friendship. And then we were here. Here, in the Great Hall. Here the Sorting Hat called out  _ Gryffindor _ when I was expecting to hear Ravenclaw. And suddenly I had a family, you know? The Weasleys. Harry. Dean and Seamus and Neville and Lavender and Parvati. All the others. And we were here for six years and our family grew. Mine and Harry’s. Because it was Harry’s family, really, you see, but he’s… _ Harry _ . So his family was mine too. And it grew. Dobby. Sirius. Lupin. Tonks. Fleur. Colin.” She sniffed, the words breaking now because she was crying so hard, but so determinedly enunciating each one clearly. 

 

“And their bodies all lay just here,” she said, pointing at them one by one. “Fred was here. Colin over here. And Lupin and Tonks, their baby just a few weeks old, they were right here together.” The tears were running down Snape’s face as well, but he said nothing, because this moment was taken up entirely by Hermione’s grief. After a moment her chin lifted. 

 

“Bellatrix died here, too, right over there.” She paused. “May she rot in hell.” She sniffled again. “And Voldemort. He died in here. Right there, in the middle of the room, with all of us watching as he died just like any man, cut down  _ again _ by a simple rebounding spell.”

 

There was silence for a few moments, and Snape squeezed her hand. “And then we were all in here, laying them out, and there were people being taken to St Mungo’s. And Harry told me what your memories had shown him. And I knew that no matter what else you had done, you deserved to be laid out in here with the other fallen heroes. So I went to find you. Ernie, he had no family here. He offered to come without even knowing where I was going; he just wasn’t letting me go alone. And Charlie. He wouldn’t let me go without protection either. And he had heard some of what Harry said, and he wanted to thank you, too. So we went. And we found you.”

 

“And you saved me,” Snape said quietly. “Oh, Hermione. I wish you could see how extraordinary you are.”

 

She smiled sadly at him, then glanced over his shoulder.

 

Minerva McGonagall, unashamed to have been caught both eavesdropping and crying, approached and laid a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “He’s right, dear.” She glanced around the room, watching as the light gleamed on the wooden wainscotting. “This room has always seemed, to me, to hold the memories of every student who studied here. I can see hundreds and hundreds of faces in my mind’s eye, fifty years and more of them.” Her gaze moved to the front of the room, where the teachers’ table would normally have been, but she said nothing more.

 

After a moment, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. “It’s time for supper,” she said, and swept away towards the staff room. Hermione looked slowly around the Hall before following, casting a quick charm on her tear stained cheeks.


	41. Chapter Forty One

Hermione had no sooner stepped into the staff room than she was lifted off her feet and into the familiar arms of Hogwarts’ gamekeeper. “Hagrid!” she squealed in delight, trying both to return the hug and keep her face out of his massive beard. He swung her gently around before setting her on her feet again and turning to Snape.

 

“Good evenin’, Professor,” he said cautiously. Snape’s grinning response (“Hello, Hagrid!”) seemed only to make Hagrid more cautious, but he made no comment.

 

Hermione and Snape moved around the room, greeting the other Professors before dinner. Professor Vector was very pleased to see Hermione, but disappointed to hear that she would be apprenticing in Potions rather than Arithmancy. Professors Trelawney, Sinistra, and Madam Hooch were all absent from dinner, which turned out to be a lovely if simple affair of chicken, salad, and freshly-baked bread. Hermione sat between Snape and Professor Flitwick, who chattered on about the rebuilding. Each of the professors were darting glances at Snape - some subtly, some less so. His discomfort grew as the meal went on, and Hermione squeezed his knee under the table. He turned to her, and she smiled reassuringly. His answering smile was immediate, but tight. On his other side, Professor McGonagall had also noticed the furtive glances. She exchanged a look with Hermione, then called for attention and began reiterating the following day’s schedule.

 

“The Great Hall has been neglected long enough,” she said, “as Miss Granger showed me earlier. So I think tomorrow we will start in there. Severus, would you mind leading them? Are you up to it?” Snape nodded. “Wonderful. Filius will assist, as he’s used to how we’ve been going, and Miss Granger can join you as well.”

 

Snape turned to Professor Flitwick. “Filius, if you’d rather take lead…”

 

“Nonsense,” the smaller man said airily, “I’m happy to take it easy for a few days. Well, easier.”

 

Hermione saw Professors Vector and Sprout exchange glances. She knew it would take some of them a while to get used to and trust the “new” Snape, but she hoped they would be a little more discreet about it. It wouldn’t do his self-confidence any good, and she was already worried he would overtax himself, still recovering from almost dying. She considered speaking to the professors, but decided that it wasn’t her place. They would come around, and Severus would be fine.

 

“When are the other professors coming back, Professor McGonagall?” Hermione asked politely.

 

“Oh, Sybil is here,” McGonagall rolled her eyes, “she just doesn’t usually dine with us. Irma is dining with Poppy in her rooms. And Bathsheda is still at St Mungo’s.” She paused briefly, then continued, “Aurora and Rolanda are visiting some relatives in Germany or somewhere and will be back. Most everyone is still trying to take  _ some _ kind of holiday if they can, or at least leaving the castle for a few days or weeks.”

 

“I hope  _ you’ll _ get some rest as well, Professor,” Hermione said softly.

 

“Yes, well.” McGonagall hummed in a noncommittal sort of way, and Hermione shook her head. Professor Sprout caught her eye and smiled conspiratorially, and Hermione hoped that there was a plan underway to force the new Headmistress into a vacation.

 

Beside Hermione, Snape tried to hide a yawn, then smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get up to the Tower. Hermione, if you want to stay and chat, you’re welcome to of course.”

 

Hermione was already rising from her chair. “No, I’ll see you safely up there,” she said, her eyes meeting his, and missing the nudges around the table as the staff watched them smile at each other. Hermione heard McGonagall clear her throat and looked away, laying her napkin alongside her plate and extricating herself from the table. “Goodnight, Professors,” she said, smiling at Hagrid, as Snape held the door for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it’s short. More soon! Xx


	42. Chapter Forty Two

They were almost to Gryffindor Tower before either of them spoke, and when they did it was in nearly the same breath.

 

“Dinner went pretty well,” Hermione said.

“That could have been worse,” Snape said.

 

They both laughed, Snape casting a quick look around before pulling her into his arms and kissing her gently. Hermione bit at his lower lip, taking the kiss from tender to heated in the space of a heartbeat. “Hermione,” he growled warningly into her mouth, and felt her lips smile against his.

 

“Yes, Professor Snape?” she asked innocently, as her fingers wormed their way between the buttons of his jeans, unfastening the fly so that she could slide her hand in and stroke him through his boxers. He hissed, his teeth clenching and head falling back, as he felt the heat of her hand through the cotton. Hermione took the opportunity to fasten her lips against the smooth side of his neck, sucking at his skin. She felt his whole body shudder, and felt the heat between her thighs growing.

 

Suddenly they were both brought jarringly back to their senses by the icy-cold sensation of a ghost sliding past, the edge of its cape brushing their arms. Snape and Hermione broke apart, gasping, and whirled to see Nearly Headless Nick gaping wordlessly at them. Hermione flushed in embarrassment, and Snape swallowed hard before finding his voice. “Hello, Sir Nicholas,” he greeted the ghost, pleasantly enough.

 

There was a moment of silence before Nick replied. “Professor,” he said slowly. “Miss Granger.” He paused uncertainly.

 

Hermione recovered her voice at last. “It’s all right, Sir Nicholas,” she said softly. “Professor McGonagall is aware of our… relationship.” She looked up at Snape and smiled, and he smiled gently back. “It’s a long and complicated story,” she continued, turning back to Nick, “but don’t worry. We shan’t be asking you to keep any illicit secrets.”

 

Sir Nicholas nodded, relieved but still somewhat suspicious.

 

“We were just heading up to get some sleep,” Hermione continued, threading her fingers through Snape’s and tugging at his hand, “I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.”

 

“Good night, Sir Nicholas,” Snape added as he followed Hermione. Nick hovered where he was, watching until they disappeared around a corner.

 

Once they’d rounded the corner, Hermione broke into helpless giggles, and Snape watched her in amusement. They climbed the last staircase to Gryffindor Tower in pleasant silence.

 

Snape provided the password and once more allowed himself the pleasure of watching Hermione climb through the portrait-hole. She didn’t look back this time, only pulled her shirt off over her head as soon as she’d stood up straight again, so that it fell into his hands as he clambered through, followed swiftly by her bra.

 

By the time he’d caught up to her at the door to the Head Girl’s room off the common room, she’d removed her jeans as well and was wearing nothing but a pair of pale pink knickers, which, when she turned around, had a noticeably damp patch at the crotch. He swallowed, dropping his armful of her clothes and reaching for the fastenings of his jeans, which he found still undone. He shed the jeans and his t-shirt quickly and followed her into the room, where she was sitting on the big four-poster bed, legs crossed demurely.

 

Snape approached the bed slowly, as they watched each other in silence. When he was within arms’ reach, Hermione reached out and took the waistband of his boxers between her fingers, dragging the fabric down his hips and thighs and then dropping them for him to step out of.

 

Her gaze caressed his body eagerly, lingering on the tight muscles of his abdomen, his strong thighs, and his cock, standing straight out in front of him, swollen and thick. She licked her lips unconsciously.

 

Snape’s gaze, in turn, slid over her skin, summer-golden and perfect. He lingered at her breasts, the nipples puckered deliciously, and then trailed down to the lacy edge of her knickers, seeing the faint outline of the small patch of curls above her mound, and the telltale transparency of the fabric. “You are so wet for me, Hermione,” he whispered, and felt his cock twitch.

 

“Yes,” she agreed, just as quietly, tearing her gaze from his cock to meet his eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”

 

He nodded, sliding her panties down her legs before bending to her, his body gently pushing hers back down onto the bed, nestling his cock between their bodies. Her hips pushed up against his, grinding her clit against the very base of his cock, and she whimpered. He cradled her in his arms, then ducked his head down to trail his lips along her jawline. “Tell me your secret, baby,” he murmured, his voice little more than a breath across her skin.

 

Hermione grinned, wrapping her legs around his hips, trapping him against her, and grinding up against him. She bit lightly at his earlobe. “I’m  _ always _ wet for you, Severus. You make me wet just by the way you look at me. Your voice makes me wet. And,” she continued just as softly, “do you know why?”

 

He shook his head, unable to speak; her skin was surrounding him, so soft, and her teeth kept scraping his skin. He could not fathom why this beautiful creature would harbour any desire for a broken man like him, and yet…he knew it to be true, could feel it in her touch, in her kisses, in the flutters of the connection forged by their blood bond. He nipped at her jaw in lieu of speaking, and she sighed languidly, her nails scraping his scalp.

 

“It’s because I want you to fuck me.”

 

The softness of her voice made the words flow across his skin, and it was a long moment before what she’d said actually filtered through to him. His hips jerked helplessly and he moaned. “Christ, Hermione.”

 

She laughed, but continued to grind up against him, smearing her sticky juices on his balls and pelvis. “I do,” she insisted. “I’m soaking wet for you, every time you touch me, and I long for you to press your cock inside me, to fill up the void you’ve awakened with your magical tongue and your skilled fingers.” She moaned as he slid one hand down between them, ghosting down her flat stomach until it reached her soft curls, his fingers drawing lazy circles around her clitoris as he listened to her breathing speed up against his cheek. “Yes, those skilled fingers,” she gasped. His fingers left her clit, making her whimper and grind up again, and then he was sliding two long fingers deep inside of her. Her back arched.

 

“Here?” he rasped, and she cried out as he curled his fingers, pressing again and again as she writhed beneath him.

 

“Yes,” she moaned. His fingers withdrew, then pressed again. “Yes!” she cried. “Severus, please. My love. Please,” she begged, her own hands trying to get between them, to wrap her fingers around his cock. She could feel him dripping against her stomach, feel the pulsing of his arousal against her. “Severus, please, I need you, and you need me. We need each other. Please, love, please!”

 

Snape was shaking as he tried to hold himself above her. His self-control was warring with their bond. Everything in him screamed to be inside her, to claim her, to be the first and only man to ever take her. He wanted to fuck her now, and tomorrow, and every day until the end of time, and her begging was stirring something inside him, something primal that he had been denying a long time. It was growing harder and harder to deny her, to deny himself.  It didn’t  _ have _ to lead to a soul bond, he argued with himself, but slowly his movements slowed, and he lifted himself up to meet her gaze.

 

“Wait...what did you just call me?”


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure this chapter is what y’all were expecting (I’m not sure it’s what Miss Price was expecting, either - 10 points to whoever gets that reference) but I’m happy with it so here goes.

_ “Wait...what did you just call me?” _

 

“I…I don’t know?” Hermione whined wordlessly, rocking her hips up into him, trying to get him to resume his movements. Her pussy spasmed gently around his fingers, still chasing her orgasm. She whimpered, frowning up at him, trying to cast back to what she might have said to upset him. She’d been begging him to fuck her, and she’d reminded him they needed each other, and she’d called him…. _ oh _ . “It’s...it was just...a term of endearment, Severus.”

 

“Do you mean it?” his voice was hoarse. He gently withdrew his fingers, and she sighed.

 

“Well, of course,” Hermione said slowly. “Of course I care for you. Very much.”

 

“But you...you  _ love _ me?” Snape stared at her.

 

“People can  _ love _ people without being  _ in love _ with them,” Hermione said defensively, unable to meet his eyes.

 

“I know,” he agreed gently. “And you... _ you _ love  _ me _ ?” His awe shone on his face and made his voice hoarse.

 

Hermione looked up at him, cupping his face in her hands. “Of course. Of course I do, Severus.”

 

This time when his mind slid into hers of its own accord, neither of them fought it.  _ Show me what you want, _ he encouraged, and she imagined him above her, cock thrusting long and deep inside her, as his hands held her wrists above her head and his teeth scraped at her neck.  _ Fuck, _ his voice breathed in her head, and she whimpered.  _ What else, _ he demanded, and Hermione pictured herself on her knees, lips wrapped around his cock as he pressed into her mouth, gripping her hair between his long fingers. He shuddered, and she purred softly. Greedily she took them back to the image of him fucking her, and they both watched as he pounded into her again and again, as beneath him she thrashed in ecstasy.

 

_ And you, Severus? What do you want? _

 

_ Are you sure you want to know? _

 

_ Of course. _

 

In Hermione’s mind the scene changed; she was bent across the big oak desk in the Potions classroom, her hands outstretched, tied with wide strips of leather. Snape was crouched behind her, his fingers taking her roughly as he mouthed at her arse; another change and he was fucking her forcefully in the four-poster on which they now lay; another and she was cradled gently to his chest as she slept in his lap in a big armchair. The scene started to change again but Snape quickly yanked himself out of her mind before she caught more than a flash of black silk and white satin.

 

They stared at each other again, both a little breathless, and Hermione was about to speak when Snape lifted his hand to stop her. Before his fingers made contact with her face, they were both distracted by the smear of blood on his skin. “Shit, Severus, I’m sorry,” Hermione began, scrambling to reach for a tissue or her wand. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but he waved it away, wandlessly vanishing the mess. She scrambled from the bed and into the bathroom, and when she returned he had turned the covers down and was sitting up against the pillows, bare chest peeking above the blankets. He patted the bed beside him and she crawled in, nestling against his chest, avoiding meeting his gaze.

 

“May I ask a...personal question?” Snape asked quietly.

 

Hermione snorted. “I don’t think it gets more personal than having my menstrual blood on your fingers.”

 

“Really, baby, don’t worry about it. But I was going to ask why you weren’t taking a potion, or a muggle pill, to not have to worry about any of that.”

 

“I was,” Hermione admitted. “My parents got me on the pill when I was fifteen, and then before we left at the end of sixth year I brewed enough potion to last a year, because living in a tent on the run wasn’t exactly going to be made better by having my period. But it has side effects I don’t much like, and obviously, until a couple of weeks ago, there wasn’t really anything sexual going on in my life that it mattered.”

 

“Do you want me to brew you one with fewer side effects? You can tell me about them later and we can try to counteract them.”

 

“Sure.” Hermione smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Snape buried his face in her hair. “My motives are not entirely... _ virtuous _ ,” he murmured, his steady hands moving down her body, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of the cotton knickers she had donned. Her breath caught and held as one long finger circled her clit. “You see, I’ve become very fond of your pussy,” he breathed, still circling, “ **very** fond. And I want it... _ available _ to me at all times.” Hermione shuddered, and Snape drew a deep breath. The more time they spent together, the more his longing grew. She hadn’t seemed frightened of the image of herself tied to his desk, didn’t shy away when he spoke of  _ claiming _ her. He reminded himself that she was young and sheltered and that he was old and broken and then he told himself to shut up and focus on the beautiful girl currently trying to buck her hips against the hand that teased her perfect little clit. He sighed happily, and turning his hand over laid two fingers alongside her labia, pinched her clit lightly between them, and started flicking it gently with his thumb. She began to tremble, clinging to his arm as though it would save her from drowning.

 

Hermione was being driven helplessly towards orgasm, and she dimly felt her nails digging into Snape’s arm. Unbidden, the image of her tied to his desk came back into her mind and she moaned. What else would he do to her when he tied her up? she wondered. She knew he would never hurt her, but would he want to... _ hurt _ her? Some men did, she knew, and the thought of Snape’s strong arm bringing a paddle across her ass made her cry out, shuddering in his arms as she came.

  
Snape sighed happily as she shattered against him, allowing himself to imagine bringing her to the edge again and again and again, letting her come and then denying, over and over. His cock throbbed and he wrapped his free hand around it, surprised when Hermione immediately slid down to take the head in her mouth. He stroked slowly, and her lips wrapped around the tip made thrills of pleasure dance along his spine. “Oh, Hermione,” he breathed. “You’re such a good girl.” The look in her eyes made his heart pound, and within seconds he was about to spill in her mouth. “Hermione—“ he gasped, and her eyes flashed,  _ do it _ . With an inarticulate cry he came wildly into her waiting mouth, feeling the suction as she swallowed again and again. His heart was about to burst from his chest, it was beating so loudly. “Hermione, baby, I…” he stopped short, literally snapping his mouth closed, and she smiled.  _ I can love her without being in love with her _ , he told himself, and hoped his heart was listening.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

The following morning, Severus woke alone in the bed and lay listening to the sounds of the shower next door. He imagined the water dripping down Hermione’s body and couldn’t help but slowly stroke his hard cock. Just as he had decided to get up and join her, he heard what sounded like a whimper mingled with a sob, dousing his desire as he scrambled from the bed and hurried into the bathroom. His heart almost stopped as he took in the scene before him: Hermione, leaning back against the stone wall, frantically rubbing her clit as the water cascaded around her. She heard him, somehow, and opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his as she moaned, her eyes inviting him in more ways than one. He kicked off the pants he’d donned in the night, stalking towards the shower, throbbing cock leading the way. He watched her dusky nipples as her breasts moved with her heaving breaths; watched her right hand move across her pussy. As the spray hit him, he moved in close to her, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her to him. Her head lolled back, her eyes not leaving his face, as she reached for his cock and dragged its head down her pelvis, past her clit, making them both shudder, until he was pressed between her pussy and her thighs. He took a deep, trembling breath, the soft wet heat of her body surrounding him. He closed his eyes and opened them again, meeting her gaze, sinking his mind into hers without thought.  _ Fuck me, _ she begged him,  _ just like this, you can’t hurt me. _ His hips moved involuntarily, drawing back and then pressing forward again. Her pussy lips slid along the top of his cock, and he felt her tremble against him. His grip on her hips tightened and he drew back before thrusting again, harder. Through the blood bond he felt her wild exultation, as his movements became less controlled, instinct taking over.  _ Want you _ , his voice in her head growled, and she whimpered in response.  _ Yes. _ His hands were bruising her hips now, he was gripping her so tightly, and her breasts bobbed against his chest, both of them half in and half out of the shower’s spray. He’d never done anything intimate while using legilimency before, obviously, and the blood bond was making it impossible to turn off. He felt her pleasure alongside his own, throbbing around him, and with her hands gripping his upper arms he could feel her nails digging into him just enough.  _ Fuck _ , one of them gasped, as they moved together, Severus thrusting into the gap between her thighs, Hermione grinding into him.  _ Will you fuck me like this for real? _ Hermione pleaded, and involuntarily he imagined it, her chest pressed against the cold stone wall, her arms held fast above her head, as he fucked her roughly from behind.  _ Yes, _ he growled, continuing to move against her as they both watched his fantasy. The sight of his cock pounding in and out of her pussy, sticky with her juices, was mesmerizing both of them. Hermione’s nails sank deeper into his arms as she drew closer and closer to the edge, grinding herself against his cock with abandon. With a particularly hard thrust, Severus was able to yank his mind away from hers, watching as her head fell back, her body moving of its own accord, her face shifting rapidly from sheer pleasure, to desperate need, to wild abandon as he jerked her closer and pushed  _ up _ , the whole of his cock nestled against her pussy as she shattered around him, ropes of his own come dripping down her bottom and thighs, as they clung tightly to each other.


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a long and chattery chapter, with no smut in sight...but there may be something important happening...

When they emerged from Gryffindor Tower an hour later, they were both laughing at Hermione’s attempts to wiggle her ass enticingly as she scrambled through the portrait hole. They took turns exchanging stories about the portraits and corridors they passed as they made their way to the Great Hall - Hermione admitting to various misdeeds and Snape relating some of the more interesting situations he’d encountered on various nights he’d had rounds over the years. At last they stood in the Entrance Hall.

 

“Are you ready?” Snape asked quietly, and Hermione shrugged.

 

“Will I ever be ready?” she asked sadly, but reached for the handle of the great oak door, which swung open before she touched it.

 

“Teachers’ privileges,” Snape grinned at her astonishment, and he was still smiling as they entered the Great Hall.

 

There were twenty or so witches and wizards gathered there, and they all stared at Snape as he and Hermione came in.

 

Most of them had been his students; none had ever seen him smile, and certainly none had seen him in t-shirt and jeans, but it was the way he was looking at Hermione that had most of them staring and whispering to each other.

 

The room fell silent as he turned to face the assembled workers.

 

“Good morning,” Snape said pleasantly, and smiled when one of the former students overcame his apprehension to reply.

 

“Good morning, sir.”

 

“Nice to see you again,” Snape said politely. “Johnson, right?”

 

The young man stood slightly taller. “Yes! Benjamin Johnson.”

 

“You know his sister,” Snape told Hermione.

 

“Angelina,” she said at once. “Is she...how is she?”

 

Benjamin smiled. “She’s all right. She’s back at work now, or I’m sure she’d be here.”

 

Hermione nodded.

 

Snape looked around at the other workers, who had watched the exchange in silence. “I’m afraid you’re all a lot better prepared for this job than I am,” he admitted. “It’s my first day. As such I’ll be looking to you all for guidance.” His eyes lit on Professor Flitwick, who stood near the rear of the group, almost invisible. “Filius, perhaps you could give me some pointers.”

 

A ripple of whispers ran through the group, and though they were still all staring at Snape, they seemed to have relaxed considerably. Another young man that Hermione thought she recognized stepped forward and waited for Snape’s nod before speaking. “We’ve been repairing a lot of things,” he said nervously, “but also replacing wood and stone where it’s structural.”

 

“That’s very sensible,” Snape nodded, and the young man smiled.

 

“How is the work being affected by the spatial shift?” Hermione asked, and twenty or so pairs of eyes moved from Snape to her.

 

“How do you mean?” Benjamin Johnson asked.

 

“Well - a bunch of places in Hogwarts have magical spatial shifts - where some of the time the room is one way, and other times it’s not. Like on the fourth-floor corridor there’s a door to the girls’ lavatory on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, but on Mondays it’s a broom cupboard and on Tuesdays it’s a garden shed.” Several of the female former students nodded. “We can see the staircases moving when they shift,” Hermione continued, “so we know all of the states they occupy. But we can’t usually see the rooms shifting.”

 

Professor Flitwick had joined Hermione and Snape near the doors. “That’s a very insightful observation, Miss Granger.”

 

“Has it not been affecting the repairs, then, Professor?”

 

“Not so far - at least not as far as I’ve seen.” He stared into space for a moment, contemplating. “However, I think there might be a simple reason for that - the House Elves.”

 

“Because they can operate in the in-between!” Hermione exclaimed. “Of course!”

 

Beside her, Snape snorted slightly, and she turned a glare on him. “I’m sorry,” he said, somewhat chastened, but still amused. “But ‘the in-between’? Is that the technical term?”

 

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. “There is no technical term. Maybe House-Elves wouldn’t be so maligned and mistreated if we had technical names for their powers! We don’t even know what all they can do.”

 

“That’s true,” Snape agreed, and she smiled at him. He turned to Professor Flitwick, who, along with the workers crowded around them, had watched the exchange with undisguised interest. Hermione knew it was not her knowledge of spatial shifts or House-Elves that had their focussed attention; it was Severus. “Who has been supervising the House-Elves’ work on the repairs?”

 

“Minerva, probably.”

 

“Why don’t we just talk to them?” Hermione suggested. “Winky!” she called softly, and there was a loud crack as Winky appeared at her side.

 

She cringed slightly at being seen by so many people, tugging a little at her tea-towel-dress, but smiled up at Hermione. “Yes, Miss?”

 

“Winky, we are just curious about House-Elf magic. We don’t want to pry, it’s just to do with the repairs to the castle. Are you comfortable helping us?”

 

Winky considered this. “Winky will do her best, Miss.”

 

Hermione smiled. “Winky, can you be in more than one place at once?”

 

“No, Miss. But Winky can be in one place and in no place.”

 

“So you’re here in the Great Hall, but also...not?”

 

“Yes, Miss. If Winky’s Mistress calls, she must hear always and go to her.”

 

“You mean Professor McGonagall, right?”

 

“Yes, Miss.” The tiny House-Elf smiled proudly.

 

Snape spoke softly so as not to startle the Elf. “Can you be in more than one  _ time _ ?”

 

Winky tilted her head to the side. “Winky is not sure, Sir.”

 

“Now, and not-now?” Hermione rephrased.

 

“No-oo,” Winky said slowly, shifting from one foot to the other.

 

Noticing the Elf’s discomfort, Hermione gestured to the battered Great Hall around them. “When you look around this room, do you see it how it is now, with all the broken glass, and the stains and cracks?”

 

Winky looked around, her large eyes moving over the walls and windows. “Winky sees both, Miss. The broken things. And the fancy tables and ceiling.”

 

“Is that how you and the other Elves have been helping with the repairs?” Snape asked gently, and the Elf nodded.

 

“We put things back to how they are,” Winky replied.

 

Hermione and Snape exchanged glances, and Hermione smiled at Winky. “You’ve been very helpful, Winky, thank you,” she said kindly, and the Elf beamed. “We’ll let you get back to work.”

 

With a crack the Elf was gone.

 

“I guess we just plug on, then,” said Snape. He gestured to the group to his right. “You lot start on the right, the window wall. We’ll take the left.”

 

The group dispersed as they moved to begin work. Snape watched for a moment as Benjamin Johnson began the painstaking process of repairing a leaded glass window, checking each pane to be sure it fit properly before  _ accio _ -ing and  _ reparo- _ ing the next. The boy Hermione recognized but couldn’t name was running strength tests on a piece of wainscoting.

 

“Why was Winky so forthcoming about  _ space _ , but so reticent about  _ time _ ?” Hermione asked Snape in an undertone, and he shook his head. “I’ve read the few books on House Elves in the library here, but I wonder if Professor McGonagall would let me see the ones in Professor Dumbledore’s private collection.”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Snape replied, drawing his wand; weeks of comparative inactivity had him itching to do something useful.

 

“I’ll ask her at lunch,” Hermione decided, drawing her own wand, and they set to work.


End file.
